


Balance of Power

by Morgan (morgan32)



Series: Xena The Conqueror [2]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-02
Updated: 2009-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:19:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 58,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/en/works/2983">Ashes of Hope</a>. In the alternate universe of <i>Armageddon Now</i>, some of the gods are not happy with Ares' domination of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rebel

Zeus felt the calamity as a single spear of pain, deep in his immortal soul. Yet even with all of his power, he was ignorant of the cause. Nothing in all his centuries of existence had felt like this.

No other god had felt it. No other on Olympus even saw him react. Even Hera — evil bitch that she was, she would have loved to witness his instant of pain — had merely smiled and continued on her way, seemingly oblivious to the sudden rent in Zeus’ spirit. Seemingly.

A terror that was more than pain clutched at his immortal heart. He knew. In a golden flash of light Zeus left his throne on Olympus, willing himself into the mortal world. To a place he had visited but once, and carefully avoided since. A place, even so, he would always remember fondly. And he saw…

_"No! Noooo!" The hunter’s scream of agony, of desperate denial rent the air. The man, his agony of the heart, not of the flesh, rose to his feet and ran, careless of danger, into the burning barn. "Alcmene! Alcmene!" Calling her name again and again._

_The searing heat sucked the air from his lungs. The last shout became a racking cough and he could shout no more. Tears — from the smoke, surely just the smoke — poured down the hunter’s face. Yet still he moved on, forcing his way into the inferno. He **had**_ _to reach her. This couldn’t be…_

_Flames, hungry for more life, more death, reached toward him. The hunter, having forced his body beyond mortal endurance, found his strength draining away. Helpless now, he fell to his knees amid the burning timbers. His last conscious thought: We always said we’d die together._

The flames, whatever their origin, could have no effect on the god. A muttered command, a casual gesture and the flames receded in front of him like a curtain parting. He saw the woman’s body, blackened and burned beyond recognition, near what was once the barn door. The door itself was gone, barely even ashes remained. Seeing these things, the god knew a moment of heartbreak…or the closest thing to it that an immortal can know. A moment, no more, of mourning for potential lost. Another moment, considering what might be done to correct this. But even the king of the gods is subject to the Fates, and a thread of life, once cut cannot easily be re-measured. And there were two lives here…the Fates would never allow it. Then the god’s attention turned to the man, frail mortal body housing a soul of immortal courage…which could not possibly survive this unnatural inferno.

Zeus looked, not with physical eyes, for he would see nothing but flame and smoke, but with the othersight of a god. He felt a shock of recognition, then confusion. He _knew_ this mortal, somehow. He _owed_ him something. Foolishness. What could the king of the gods possibly owe to a dying man?

Dying…not yet dead.

Zeus sighed, and stretched out a hand, calming the flames around the man’s body. He lifted the hunter easily and carried him out of the barn. If there truly was some debt between them, this would pay it. Zeus left the man there, on the cool grass outside the ruined barn, and returned to his place on Olympus.

***

"Well?" The King of the Gods was not in a good mood. "Let’s hear it."

Iris, the only goddess on Olympus who would face Zeus in his current mood, knew he was not going to believe her. But she had to report the truth. "It wasn’t Hera," she told him bluntly.

"You’re not going to tell me this was some kind of accident?"

"Nothing of the sort," Iris snapped right back. "It was very deliberate. But it wasn’t Hera. She didn’t even know about your latest mortal concubine until today. You did a good job of hiding it, Zeus."

He had hidden it by making certain no one, even Alcmene herself, knew that the father of her child was Zeus. He had believed that would keep her safe. Clearly he had been wrong.

"Who else but Hera would — "

"Zeus. If you’ll allow me to show you what I’ve learned…" Condescending patience from the messenger-goddess finally penetrated Zeus’ train of thought and he gave her his attention. A shower of rainbow sparks fountained from the goddess’ upraised hand, and within that swirling vortex she created a series of images.

_Blonde-haired goddess, insanity in her eyes, leather-armoured, with a glittering pendant in her hand, its chain broken, looking down at the man lying at her feet with contempt in her eyes._

_"Do you think I can hit it from here?" she asked. An incandescent ball of fire came from her hands, growing in size and intensity as it swiftly crossed the distance between the goddess and the barn. The barn exploded into flames._

Zeus heard Alcmene’s dying scream, and the agonised denial of the mortal man who had risked his life in a futile attempt to save her. The vision faded.

"That pendant in her hand contains hind’s blood," Iris informed the god. So if you were planning to undo this you can find someone else to do your dirty work."

Zeus barely reacted to her comment. "What else?" he demanded. "Who _is_ she?"

"The mortal called her Callisto." Iris shrugged. "Means nothing to me, and that’s all I could find out. Except…there’s something else you should see, Zeus."

_A flash of godly light and the mortal appeared in the square at Corinth. Questioning a couple of women…mentioning a name…running, running like some beast of Tartarus was behind him, all the way to Alcmene’s farm. His panicked attempt to warn her of danger…_

_The goddess appeared in a rush of fire and darkness. The instant she saw Alcmene she raised her hand, flinging a ball of fire…_

"She came through _time_?" Zeus asked, though he already knew the answer to that. He was more concerned by the darkness at her shoulder when she appeared…but even that thought was dismissed by Iris’ next words:

"She came through time. So did he."

"But he’s mortal."

"I noticed that. He was sent here by Ares — "

Zeus’ look was like thunder.

"Calm down. I asked him — he doesn’t know a thing. I think we can assume they both came from the future. Ever hear of someone called Hercules?"

Zeus was silent, pondering, before he answered firmly, "Never."

"Well, find _him_ and you’ll find your answers."

***

#### Many Years Later…

Xena, the Conqueror’s voice, unemotional, almost bored: "Put her on the cross." The afterthought: "Break her legs."

Gabrielle screamed in agony as the order was obeyed. The bones of her legs and ankles shattered with a single hammer blow. The cross was raised above the square. She looked down at the gathered crowd.

Wrong. She had been so wrong.

Their spirit was already broken. If it was not so, surely someone would have spoken, _someone_ would have heard Gabrielle’s voice. Then, at the back of the crowd, she saw him. His blonde head bowed, his shoulders slumped, defeated. The one man she _knew_ had spirit. The man whose words had given her the courage to speak, whose courage put her poor rebellion to shame. The blonde head raised, he looked up, their eyes met. His blue eyes — eyes that, despite their shadow of guilt, had always seemed to her to laugh — were filled with tears. The honesty of that gaze reached into her heart and she realised what he had hidden from her: his love.

She wanted to speak. She wasn’t able.

He turned away from her as the crowd began to disperse, walking slowly, dejectedly out of the square. Gabrielle was left alone with her agony.

_The right person could change her, Gabrielle. I’m sure of it._

_What loss or betrayal made you the monster you are?_

«Look at you…»

Pain. In her legs, shattered beyond any healer’s aid. In her side, where the Conqueror had kicked her the day before. In her arms and shoulders, muscles beginning to tear under the strain of the cross. Most of all, in her heart, for opportunities gone, and for

«Betrayal.»

_No. Not that._

«Just that. The Conqueror betrayed you. She made you believe she could change.»

_Iolaus said she could change. He said there’s good in her. He gave me hope._

«False hope. Look at where it’s brought you.»

_My fault._

«The Conqueror’s order. Remember your home…?»

She remembered laughing, rolling over and over down a grassy bank, getting covered with dust and seeds, laughter shared with Lila

«Murdered by the Conqueror’s army.»

and Perdicas.

«Enslaved. He died under the whip less than a year after your family was slaughtered.»

_Who are you?_

«Remember your friends?»

Pascilus, dear, if stupid boy

«His eye burnt out at the whim of Xena’s Commander»

Rosoin, her closest friend, loyal even when she thought Gabrielle was wrong, which was frequently…

«Raped by the Conqueror’s guards. Her son sold to the slave markets of Alturia. Her father murdered when he became too old to work.»

Orestes…

«His entire family slaughtered because their royal blood threatened the Conqueror’s rule. Hunted down like a dog from city to city. Killed by…»

_Alright! That’s enough. I know how he died._

«And you…the future you hoped for, the plans you made…You were going to change the world.»

_Who are you?_

«You know who I am.»

And Gabrielle realised, with a terror that overcame even her dying agony, that she did know whose voice tormented her.

_Forgive me… What do you want of me?_

«I have it.»

And the voice was gone.

A crimson eternity of agony passed. Every breath an impossible effort. Every second a new height of torment. Then it was over. She knew she must be dead, even though she still hurt, because they were cutting her down from the cross. It didn’t lessen her pain: just brought her all new ones. Could pain follow a soul to the Other Side? What was she supposed to do now?

Voices. Tormentingly familiar, calling her name. Hands on her body. The sensation of being carried. A soft hand touched her cheek, a reassuring whisper, like a mother’s touch. Then a sudden burst of agony, even worse than before. Gabrielle tried to scream but her throat was too dry. Mercifully, she fainted.

***

#### One Year Later…

In the darkness before the dawn, a woman, laden down with a heavy pack, approached the temple gates. The temple was an old building, poorly kept and deserted. There were no temple guards, no priests to bar her entry. The gates opened to her touch and the temple doors were unbarred.

The woman moved slowly, not through age or sloth but because every step caused her pain. She leaned heavily on a roughly made crutch. Inside, the temple was lit only by the perpetual flame on the altar. Behind that flame stood a tarnished cast bronze statue of a peacock. The woman lit a torch from the single flame, murmuring a prayer for forgiveness, and used it to light others, near the door, and lining the temple walls. She produced the broom she had brought with her and began to sweep the temple clean: a long job, as the dead leaves and dirt had been accumulating for years.

Finally, the temple was as clean as she could hope to make it, and the woman brought her offering to the altar: flowers, picked by her own hands, fruits and grains, precious in this starving world. Beeswax candles, lit and carefully placed on either side of the perpetual flame. Finally, the most precious gift of all: a pair of peacock feathers to decorate the altar.

As the woman completed her task, the chariot of Helios was rising, lighting the temple and bathing the sky with blood-red light.

The woman fell to her knees before the altar as a supernatural wind swept through the temple. With a flash of blue light, the dark-shrouded figure of a goddess appeared in front of her. Her face was stern, yet beautiful, her eyes swirled with blue-green incandescence. She regarded the kneeling woman silently for a long moment, before she spoke.

"You want to fight my son."

The woman raised her face to the goddess. "I want," she disagreed, "to rid the world of the Conqueror."

The goddess laughed, a low-pitched sound filled with malice. "The God of War fights at the Conqueror’s side. Do not delude yourself you can battle one without the other."

"Then I will fight Ares, too. I ask for your help."

The goddess took a single step forward and reached out a hand to the woman kneeling before her. The woman, trembling, took that hand and rose slowly, painfully, to her feet.

The goddess spoke again. "I will help you, Gabrielle. But you must tell me everything. And you must pay whatever price I ask."

"To destroy the Conqueror," the woman declared, her voice strong and clear, "I will do anything you ask."

***

#### Another World

Iolaus was not happy.

He was crouching in a dark cave, bent over a pile of wet wood that he knew was never going to turn into a fire but was trying to light anyway, while the rain poured down outside as if someone had picked up the whole of Poseidon’s ocean and was pouring it only on this valley. There was no dry wood anywhere. He was cold, he was wet, he was hungry. Worst of all, he was alone.

It was all his own fault of course. Delayed a day by irresistible female company, Iolaus knew Hercules would be in Corinth already. No doubt tucked up in a nice warm bed with a good meal inside him. Had Iolaus only delayed a little longer he might have avoided this storm. Okay, so her uncle’s hayloft wasn’t exactly a feather bed, but the company had more than made up for it. He could have stayed another night. But no. "I have to meet Hercules," he had told her. "I made a promise." So instead of spending another night in the arms of a beautiful — well, okay, pretty — woman, he was spending the night here, freezing his butt off and starving, waiting for the endless rain to ease off.

Lightning streaked across the sky, and for the briefest instant Iolaus thought he saw someone standing outside the cave. He reached for his sword, and laid it unsheathed across his legs. The thunder, louder seeming louder, somehow, than it should be, rumbled through the darkness. Iolaus stayed alert, his eyes straining to see into the dark. He saw nothing. Ah, relax, Iolaus. You’re just letting the storm get to you. Just like a kid afraid of the thunder.

Another streak of lightning rent the sky in two. In the thunder that followed Iolaus heard, or imagined, a scream. A woman’s scream. The last time he’d heard something like that…

_"Break her legs."_

_Gabrielle. Oh, gods, Gabrielle._

Snap out of it, Iolaus. It never happened, remember. You used the Chronos Stone to put it right.

The next flash of lightning illuminated an object lying across the abandoned tinder in front of him. A single peacock’s feather.

Iolaus leapt to his feet, his sword in hand, even though he knew it would be a futile gesture. Adrenaline flooded his veins. In the thunder that followed the lightning, he heard laughter, ominous above the noise of the storm.

A wave of disorientation struck him and Iolaus was struggling against sudden nausea. Then the world disappeared.


	2. The Conqueror

The voices of both men could be heard through Xena’s open door.

"...Though she doesn’t seem to have much interest in such things lately," she heard one man say as their walk brought them within earshot.

"If you think that, Darphus, you’re a fool," the other man replied. There was no mistaking the soft voice: Daunus, most trusted advisor to Xena, the Conqueror. A man who held no military position, had never fought as a warrior, yet somehow had risen to gain the Conqueror’s trust. How he rose to such power was a matter of keen speculation in the Conqueror’s household, yet for all the gossip, no one, except the two of them knew the truth.

Xena smiled to herself as she heard him continue: "The Conqueror hasn’t changed at all. She’s just as ruthless now as she has ever been. More, perhaps."

Daunus knew her well, Xena reflected.

"It would be nice if she’d show it," Darphus complained.

Xena could imagine Daunus’ sardonic smile. "Do you _mean_ that, Commander?" Daunus enquired, all innocence. The words hung there menacingly.

Darphus grunted, acknowledging the point. "Perhaps not."

"You can relax, Commander. It won’t be long, now." Daunus’ dry chuckle was the last thing she heard as their voices faded away.

Xena, the Conqueror rose slowly from her chair and walked over to her balcony. From here she could see almost the entire city of Corinth. _Her_ city. Darphus was becoming restless. Well, they all were. The years of war and conquest were over: they had won. Her realm covered the entire Known World. Darphus, truly a war leader, not a peacetime general, was naturally bored with peace. She would have to watch him carefully…as, it seemed, Daunus was already doing. It would be a shame if she had to have Darphus killed. He was a useful man, in his way.

The Conqueror’s hair was loose about her face, and her startlingly blue eyes glittered in the light of the setting sun. Her gown, a simple brocade, was cut in the Eastern style she favoured: wide sleeved and wide-skirted. A style of dress she had adopted as the Conqueror because it was easy to conceal weapons within the folds of the robe, and easy to discard if she needed to fight.

Her hand drifted across the front of her robe, outlining her swollen stomach. Truly, it wouldn’t be long, now. This had become a habit, lately. This nightly peaceful contemplation of her city. Perhaps Darphus was right: the Conqueror was finally mellowing. Motherhood could do that to a woman.

By now, all of Greece knew that the Conqueror carried a child. The thought had scared her, at first. She knew she was not loved. How could she protect herself when she was heavy with child? She had been forced to trust those charged with her protection. It made her vulnerable, and she hated that.

The identity of the father of her child was another subject of much gossip and speculation. No one had dared to ask her. Xena smiled to herself. No one, whatever they might privately think, would openly criticise her unmarried state. It was just as well.

Watching the sunset turn the sky bloody-red, she remembered the first night he had come to her. She, like Darphus, had been feeling the boredom of a world at peace. So desperate had she been for something to happen, she had used that young rebel (what was her name? Oh, yes, Gabrielle.) to amuse herself. It had been fun, for a while, teasing the woman by letting her speak her mind. But somehow, the woman’s words had reached Xena deeply inside.

_In the privacy of her bedchamber, Xena, the Conqueror, buried her face in her hands and gave in to grief and despair. The rebel’s words haunted her:_

_ **"How does your pain justify the things you have done?"** _

_ **"Prove you're the greatest warrior by slaughtering a helpless woman."** _

_Three years before…the nameless village Darphus burned…a baby, the sole survivor among the ruins…the baby she killed in order to humiliate her lieutenant…Her turning point. The single chance the Fates had offered for Xena to decide her destiny. For the sake of pride and (**admit it, Xena**) fear, she had killed an innocent child._

_Not the first. She remembered Cirra, and the hunt she had led for the survivors of that burned town. She remembered Chin. She remembered Parthis. She remembered Rome._

_Xena wept. How had this girl, this frightened rebel, seen so clearly into her heart? Why now? Why couldn't she have met Gabrielle years ago? For a single instant, Xena saw herself as others must see her: the Conqueror, the monster, the murderer. For a moment, she had felt regret. For a moment, she had glimpsed a different world._

_ **It's too late. I've killed so many men. I'll never wash the blood from my hands.** _

_A brief sparkle of red, and a dark-clad figure appeared before her. "Why would you want to?" Ares had asked her._

Ares, her mentor and ally, knew her too well. Xena was in love with Power. The major downside to being ruler of the Known World, was not being able to find a man with more power than she. Quite simply, no mortal could hold power that did not come from her. Ares could offer her that. As far as Xena was concerned, theirs was a partnership of equals. Even so, the power of his godhood was…

The god had explained his plans — and the part he expected Xena to play in them — in great detail. Even as she laughed at him, and told him he was mad, she felt the old excitement rising in her heart. The Conqueror recognised a kindred spirit. She recognised the danger, but danger, too, excited her. She had agreed.

Xena was under no illusions. Ares cared nothing for her personally. She was merely a tool, a small part of his complex design…but an indispensable one. Not to mention, she remembered that night, the god was an incredible lover.

He used her, she used him. The Conqueror needed an heir, after all, someone who would be strong enough to rule her empire and lead her armies.

All of this was true. The cold, logical warrior in her had considered all the arguments, and made the deal. Yet, hidden so deep in her heart she had no need to acknowledge it, there was another thing. Xena was lonely. Isolated by reputation, and by the power she held, afraid to show weakness by reaching out, she had taken with gratitude what comfort she could. From her Olympian lover and, soon, from their child.

***

At first there was only darkness. The first thing he was aware of was a sound: the wind whistling through the shutters of a window. Window? In sudden fear Iolaus opened his eyes, sitting up quickly — too quickly. He groaned as he lifted a hand to his aching head. Had someone knocked him out?

He looked around as his vision cleared. A high-ceilinged, grey-walled room, furnished like a tavern room: a bed, a table, chairs. There was a single, shuttered window high on one wall. Nothing else. Nothing to indicate where he might be. More slowly, this time, Iolaus swung his legs around so he could sit on the edge of the bed. His sword and hunting knife lay on the table. Noticing this, he felt slightly reassured: an enemy wouldn’t have left his weapons within such easy reach.

_What happened? Where am I? Okay, Iolaus, **think**_. He remembered the rainstorm. He remembered searching for some shelter. Remembered finding the cave and trying to light a fire. Then… _Oh, gods! Hera!_ But that wasn’t _possible_. Was it…?

There was a slight creaking sound as the door swung open. A slight, dark-haired woman with a serious expression walked through the door.

Without thinking, Iolaus blurted, "Rosoin!"

The barest hint of a smile touched her lips. "You must be confused, Iolaus."

"You can say that again!" Rosoin couldn’t be here. She _couldn’t_. What was going on…?

"Do you know where you are?" Rosoin asked him gently. Iolaus was afraid to answer, as if saying the words might somehow make it true. Rosoin gave her half-smile again, and explained. "Iolaus, we met a year ago, in Corinth. When Gabrielle was arrested by the Conqueror’s guards…"

That was enough. "I remember," Iolaus interrupted. His voice was a croak.

Many years before, Iolaus had spent a year in the East. There he had learned, alongside the fighting techniques that were his signature, a number of methods of mind-control. He needed those methods now. What appeared to have happened was impossible, it had to be. Everything Iolaus knew about the world said so. He had to stop thinking of questions, calm himself and just accept it. Somehow. Only then would he be able to _deal_ with it, and figure out what was going on.

Rosoin said nothing, waiting for him.

Eventually Iolaus looked up at her. "My being here doesn’t surprise you, does it?" he realised.

Rosoin shook her head. "You were brought here, deliberately."

"_Why?_ And how?" Rosoin didn’t answer. "Rosoin, I don’t belong here. I have a life. People who rely one me. You have _got_ to send me back."

The dark head bowed and Rosoin turned away briefly, pulled up a chair and sat facing him. "I thought that would be your attitude. You never struck me as a man who could be coerced. This wasn’t my idea, Iolaus."

_A single peacock’s feather illuminated by a flash of lightning._ Iolaus swallowed back his fear. "Who?" he asked.

"Gabrielle."

For a moment Iolaus couldn’t breathe. His eyes went wide. "She’s _alive_? But Xena — "

"Xena had her crucified and her legs broken. We cut her down. Iolaus, we thought we were claiming her body, but somehow she was still alive. We fled Corinth together…you had disappeared." Her eyes met his, silently asking a question.

"I…I thought of a way to set this world right. I thought I’d succeeded. Now I find myself here." Iolaus shook his head. "Is Gabrielle here, Rosoin? Can I see her?

Rosoin nodded. "You will. Soon. I just thought I should warn you first. The past year has changed her, Iolaus. She’s not the woman you knew."

_"Break her legs."_

Iolaus went cold. He knew how radically a similar experience had changed Xena…turned her into a monster. Surely Rosoin couldn’t be saying the same of Gabrielle? "Changed, how?" he asked apprehensively.

"You’ll see. One other thing, Iolaus. Gabrielle is the only one who can send you back." She hesitated, watching her words sink in. "Ready to face the world?" she asked, with forced brightness.

"Yeah," Iolaus agreed. He picked up his sword and knife and followed her from the room.

***

"Absolutely not." Iolaus shook his blond head firmly, emphasising his words.

"Iolaus…" Gabrielle rose, leaning on a roughly made crutch and hobbled across the space between them.

It was painful to watch her, but Iolaus was not going to give in. ""Gabrielle, I understand your desperation. But what do you expect me to do?" Turning down a request for help was as hard for Iolaus as it was for Hercules. But what else could he do?

They were alone in another tiny chamber, much like the one he had awakened in. There was a small fire burning in the grate, and a torch set in a sconce near the door. In the light case by these, Iolaus could see the changes in Gabrielle: beside the obvious physical injury there were things more subtle: a dark shadow beneath her eyes, a few lines about her mouth, a way she had of not quite meeting his eyes…all of it added up to a picture of a woman who had suffered a great deal, and changed even more. Rosoin had been right to warn him.

Gabrielle’s pale eyes flashed with anger and she stood right in front of the hunter. "Look at me, Iolaus. Look at what the Conqueror did to me."

_Oh, gods, Gabrielle…_ "I _know_ what she did to you." Iolaus’ voice was choked. "I was there."

"I know." She spoke softly, reaching out a hand. Automatically, Iolaus took it. Gabrielle went on, "You changed my life, Iolaus. You gave me the courage to speak. I have never regretted that. But then you just disappeared."

He swallowed, hard. How could he explain it to her? "I can’t blame you if you’re angry. That day has haunted me…"

"I’m not angry with _you._ But the Conqueror…it made me realise what she is. She has to be stopped, Iolaus. Surely you realise that."

As it happened, Iolaus wasn’t so sure of that. Certainly, the Xena of this world was a monster, a tyrant. The Conqueror of the Known World. The trouble was, an empire like that, it wouldn’t be possible to overthrow the Conqueror without throwing the world into bloody chaos. More than that, whatever leader or leaders replaced her, could be worse. Much worse: one of her most trusted commanders was Darphus. Iolaus shuddered at the memory, but kept his thoughts to himself.

All he said to Gabrielle was, "You expect me to help with your revenge."

"Revenge?" Gabrielle laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Now why would you think that?" Silence from Iolaus. "_Of course_ I want revenge. I want that evil demon from Tartarus dead!"

She should have been crying. The Gabrielle Iolaus knew in his own world would have been weeping by now. But those green eyes were as hard and cold as emeralds. Iolaus shuddered inwardly. "I won’t help you commit murder, Gabrielle."

Those eyes flashed with anger once again and she turned away from him abruptly. "Hera curse you!" she muttered.

But Iolaus heard. And with the words, the memory flashed across his mind once more. "Hera!" he exclaimed. "Is that how you brought me here? You made a deal with _Hera_?!!"

"What else was I supposed to do?" she shouted back at him. "The Conqueror is too powerful for mortal means. What did we achieve in Corinth? Orestes died. I nearly died. And no one heard our voices. No one."

Quietly, Iolaus said, "_I_ heard you."

She stared at him, wide eyed, and for just an instant Iolaus glimpsed the Gabrielle he knew. As quietly as he, she replied, "And I, you. That’s why I need you now."

"Gabrielle… Please believe me. You can’t trust Hera. She’s the same in any world. Is this what you’ve become? What happened to the Gabrielle I met a year ago?" _What’s happened to the Gabrielle I know…and love?_

"Whatever we’ve become," she said firmly, "it’s what the Conqueror made us."

He had heard those words before. Iolaus shook his head in denial. "Your destiny is in your own hands, no one else’s." _Hercules, what do I do?_

"I thought we were friends," Gabrielle said.

"So did I." Iolaus stood, moving to look into her face as he spoke. ""Bringing me here, taking me away from my friends, people who need me…is that the act of a friend, Gabrielle?"

Slowly, she bowed her head. "No, it isn’t." A long silence. "Alright, Iolaus. I’ll send you back. But before I do, would you meet some of my friends? Listen to their stories. Then, if you still want to go, I won’t try to prevent it."

***

#### Another World…

Hercules raised a hand, shielding his eyes against the bright sunlight as he gazed down the road. How quickly the weather had changed! After the rainstorm of the previous night, everything had an almost preternatural glow: colours brighter than usual, the sound of birdsong loud, even the smells somehow heightened.

He barely noticed, his attention focussed completely on the bare road.

"Hercules."

The quiet voice behind him made him turn — briefly — away from the view. Hercules gave his friend a quick nod of acknowledgement, the barest hint of a smile, then he went back to staring at the road.

"He’s not even late, yet," Jason added.

"I know," Hercules admitted. "I was just hoping…"

"Come on," Jason said lightly. "He’s with a pretty girl. We won’t see him for a week." He paused, looking up at his troubled friend. Sighing, he shook his head. "Relax, Hercules. Iolaus deserves the break." Firmly, he added, "So do you."

"Yeah…" Hercules forced himself to turn away from the empty view. "I just have a feeling…something’s wrong." The silence dragged on and Hercules shrugged, making the effort to dismiss the vague foreboding he felt. _Sumeria’s made you paranoid, Herc,_ he chided himself. _It’s not as if Iolaus can’t look after himself._ But what if it wasn’t paranoia?

"Hercules?" Jason said again.

"I’m coming." Hercules followed Jason into the house. No doubt Iolaus would be along soon.


	3. The Child

The moon, almost at its first quarter, was clearly visible above the treeline. Iolaus was gazing silently out of the open window, looking up at the moon’s cold light. Selene’s silver chariot. Or perhaps, Iolaus reflected, that should be Hecate’s waxing moon: truly, the dark goddess of the Underworld was a more appropriate witness to this night than the merry, if capricious, Selene. In a room full of people — at least seventeen crowded into a room that might comfortably seat eight — Iolaus felt alone, isolated.

Gabrielle… Iolaus had fulfilled his part of their bargain. All he had to do was say the word and she would keep her promise and send him home. Part of him wanted to do exactly that. And yet…

She had known what she was doing, the clever, manipulative little — She had known surely, that once he heard the full horror of these people’s lives he wouldn’t be able to walk away. Iolaus had sat beneath the open window and listened, mostly in silence, as each one of Gabrielle’s rag-tag band of rebels told their stories. Tales of slaughter: whole towns put to the sword for their leaders’ mistakes. Tales of sons taken for soldiers and daughters taken for slaves. Tales of atrocities almost beyond Iolaus’ comprehension…and for a man who had seen as much evil as he that was a terrifying thought.

One tale among all the others tugged at Iolaus’ heart.

Rosoin.

Iolaus had known there was something terrible in her past. He’d even been able to make a few guesses as to what, simply from observation: the way she stayed close to her friends, her half-smile that never quite conveyed happiness, her hesitation when she spoke to him. But to hear the story from her own lips was something else.

She had sat on a small stool, opposite him. As she spoke, her eyes would meet his in flickering glances before returning to the ground, or to her hands, tightly clenched in her lap.

"I was born in Athens, the youngest of five. My father was a smith. My mother was the sweetest, most beautiful woman…I don’t know how to describe her: she used to make soap, scented with lavender and honey. Memories of childhood.

"When Xena’s army came…well, like everyone else, we thought she would lose. No warrior could possibly take Athens. As you know, we were wrong about that. Her army swept through the city like a fire in the grasslands. It was horrible. So much death…people screaming…we fled the city, of course. Those of us who survived. About a hundred of us…watching Athens burn… But that wasn’t the worst of it. The morning after we were surrounded by the Conqueror’s army. A lot of the refugees simply surrendered. We had lost our homes, everything we had…what else did we have to lose? My brother tried to fight them." She had told it all haltingly, her voice unsteady. Now Rosoin was weeping.

As gently as he could, Iolaus said it for her. "They killed him?"

She nodded. "And my mother, because he…he was protecting her… M-my father…" and her voice trailed off again. After a moment, she added, in a whisper, "I don’t think I can do this…"

"You don’t have to," Iolaus said at once. He wanted to reach out to her, but knew it would be unwise.

"Shall I?" asked someone else: an older woman. Rosoin nodded gratefully.

The other woman — he later learned her name was Lena — spoke bluntly. "Rosoin was taken by the Conqueror’s guards as an example. She was raped. Repeatedly. When they found out her father was a smith they took him as a slave. Rosoin, too. She had a son…"

Iolaus winced at the harsh words. He wanted to close his ears, block out the sounds, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t dishonour Rosoin by doing so. He listened as the tale of horror unfolded. What made it worse was knowing that Rosoin’s was not an exceptional tale. Similar things must have happened everywhere Xena rode…which meant all over the Known World. How was it possible? How could the Xena he knew as a hero have become this monster? It didn’t make sense. Even as a warlord, she had lived by a certain code of honour. She had never — or rarely — killed women and children. But this painted a picture of slavery, of murder, of the most incredible cruelties…the "Conqueror" seemed worse than Callisto.

At that thought, Iolaus started. That he could even _think_ such a thing… Yet the thought of Callisto led him inescapably to the memory of how this world was created. Of his own failure. And, with a cold touch of fear, to his responsibility for some of the events in this world… Iolaus’ words had helped to shape Xena, the Conqueror. How much, he would never know.

Inwardly, he sighed heavily. He turned away from the window. The moon behind him framed his blonde head with a halo of silver. He saw Gabrielle was still watching him. He didn’t think she had taken her eyes off him from the moment he turned away. He took a breath, opened his mouth to tell her he would stay, and help if he could.

There was a commotion at the door. Iolaus saw a man reach for a weapon and dropped his hand to his sword, his body automatically shifting into a fighting stance. The door opened and someone walked in.

Someone. At first, Iolaus wasn’t sure whether the newcomer was a man or a woman. A voluminous, torn cloak concealed both body and face. The hood, when thrown back revealed close-cropped hair, and a strong-jawed face with three vertical scars running from eye to neck on the left cheek. A blue-eyed gaze swept the room, taking in every detail, meeting Iolaus’ eyes and passing on without showing interest. Something in that moment, however, told him that this newcomer was a woman. A guess proved right the next moment, when she threw off her torn cloak. Beneath it she wore tight-fitting, brown, leather trousers, and a simple leather halter-top. Rawhide gauntlets at her wrists. An Amazon?

She let the cloak fall to the ground and walked straight toward Gabrielle. No one else in the room moved. The silence was filled with expectation.

"Ephiny," Gabrielle said. Just the name, her voice filled with warmth.

Iolaus relaxed, glad she had confirmed that this intimidating woman was a friend.

"I have news from Corinth," Ephiny announced, her voice quiet, but pitched to carry. "The child is born."

***

#### Another World…

"Good hunting."

Hercules smiled at Jason’s words. "I could use a few old hunters’ tricks." He shifted the weight of the pack on his shoulder. "Do you think I’m overreacting?" he asked.

Jason shrugged. "I think Iolaus will think so," he said honestly. With a wink he added, "Especially if you find him and he’s spent the past week with some woman."

"Jason, I hope it does turn out to be something like that." Hercules turned his gaze toward the empty horizon. "I just can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong."

There was nothing left to say. Hercules set off, his easy stride eating up the miles. It was hard not to be worried, though. If his instincts were right, and something _had_ happened to Iolaus when he first set out for Corinth, it was going to be very difficult for Hercules to find him.

The demigod had no choice but to trust to luck.

***

Amidst the murmuring that followed Ephiny’s announcement, a very confused Iolaus spoke quietly to Rosoin. "What’s the big fuss? What child?"

Rosoin’s shadowed eyes met his; a frown of confusion crossed her face, then disappeared. "I keep forgetting you won’t know," she said, half to herself. A deep breath, then she continued. "Iolaus, four months ago we learned that the Conqueror was carrying a child. In a way, that’s what brought Gabrielle here, to Hera."

"Then it’s Xena’s child you’re all talking about?" Iolaus repeated. Rosoin nodded. "Okay…I can see how that would matter. What I don’t see is what any of you think you can _do_ about it."

Rosoin was clearly flustered by the blunt question. Her gaze shifted to Gabrielle. "Neither do I," she said, quietly.

Gabrielle was still speaking with Ephiny. As Iolaus followed Rosoin’s gaze to the two women, Gabrielle looked back at them, once, then left the room.

"Who’s Xena’s consort?" Iolaus asked curiously.

Rosoin shrugged. "She doesn’t have one." She was still watching the door that closed behind Gabrielle. Then she turned back to Iolaus, brushing a few locks of wayward dark hair out of her eyes. "You’re wondering who fathered the child? So is most of Greece. The Conqueror has taken lovers over the years. But no one knows who got her with child."

Iolaus frowned. He might have imagined the slight stress Rosoin put on those words, but he noticed it. Why the secrecy? The Xena he knew…as a warlord she had used her body as just another weapon. As a hero, she was still completely unselfconscious. He couldn’t believe that she’d _care_ what people thought of her sex life. Being the Conqueror should have enhanced those things about her, not changed them. There was a mystery here that went beyond the identity of a man.

It made him uneasy. Iolaus thought about it, sure there was something here he should know, but the key danced just out of reach. Frustrating. Nevertheless, he was beginning to get a sense of larger issues at play. Iolaus suppressed a sudden shudder of fear. A premonition, maybe.

When Gabrielle returned, it got worse.

She had come straight from the temple. Whatever she had learned there had clearly disturbed her. The young woman’s face was pale, her hand on her walking staff was white-knuckled and trembling all at once. Iolaus, concerned, rose to go to her side.

Rosoin got there first. She linked her arm in Gabrielle’s, supporting her. "What is it?" she asked, quietly.

Gabrielle glanced around the room, aware of having an audience. "Not now," she told Rosoin curtly. That crack of command in Gabrielle’s voice sounded so odd to Iolaus.

_She’s been talking to Hera,_ Iolaus guessed, then blinked, stunned by the casualness of the thought. _This world must be getting to me._

Gabrielle raised her voice. "It’s late. Get some rest, all of you. Tomorrow we have to make plans."

***

The throne was magnificent.

A base carved of pure white marble, veined with palest grey, was topped by arms and a back apparently forged of silver and gold, the metals skilfully worked to mimic the veined pattern of the marble. Above the throne’s high back there was more decoration, intricately worked in gold with varicoloured jewels. In the light of three fires, the throne glittered, sending points of reflected light into all corners of the cavern. The very air seemed alive with light.

"Very nice," Ares commented. He walked slowly around the throne. A hand traced the lines of intricate decoration.

"Have a seat."

Ares turned at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion.

"It’s perfectly safe, Ares. The throne is merely a shell. The mechanism is not yet finished." Limping across the cavern from the stone table to the forge, Hephaestus lifted a half-finished twist of fire-blackened metal, holding it up in the light before picking up a tool and resuming his delicate work. Ares didn’t appreciate the artistry of the craftsmanship, he knew. All the god of war was interested in was his weapon.

Ares stepped back from the chair, his gaze taking in the full effect. It _was_ tempting. A momentary hesitation, and he sat himself in the throne. He smiled. What had looked like cold marble was warm, and slightly yielding. The arms and back of the throne moulded perfectly to his frame…so perfectly he wondered: it could almost have been made for him.

The god of war made a striking figure sitting there. The gold and silver of the throne surrounded him like a halo, the god’s dark hair and black leather a perfect contrast with all that light. He relaxed a little, leaning back into the throne. He knew it suited him.

"How soon will it be ready?" he asked.

Hephaestus looked up impatiently, the rhythmic sounds of his hammer on steel ceasing. "Crafting the inner mechanism can’t be rushed, Ares. You want it to work right first time, don’t you?"

"I don’t have much time."

Hephaestus had been hearing _that_ from Ares for centuries. "What’s the big hurry, Ares? Zeus isn’t going anywhere."

Ares was out of the throne in an instant when Zeus’ name was mentioned, pacing across the space between them. He raised a hand to his beard in a thoughtful gesture. Ares’ plans to take over Olympus had been twenty years in the making. Not long, perhaps when measured against an immortal’s life, but long enough, long enough. Hephaestus was right. Impatience at this time could ruin everything. This year would see all the threads of his plans come together. _If_ Hephaestus finished that damned throne.

All the god of war said was, "I’ve worked at this too long to slow down now. The longer I wait, the more likely it is that Zeus will guess what…" Ares paused, then with cold emphasis, went on: "…what _we_ are doing." Then he vanished.

Hephaestus stared at the empty space where his brother had been. He understood, all too well, what Ares was telling him. He was too deeply involved with Ares’ plans to do anything but back him to the hilt.

Picking up his hammer once again, Hephaestus resumed his work. In the torchlight, the ugly scars that marred his face were clearly visible.

***

#### Another World…

He was led by instinct far more than by skill. There was only an hour of light left by the time Hercules reached the bottom of the hill. Looking around for a fallen branch, Hercules used some of that precious hour to light a fire and make a torch. Then he doused his small fire with earth and began the climb. The ground beneath his boots was uneven; small pebbles kept dislodging as he climbed. A few times, he almost fell. This was the last place he could look today. Hercules needed sleep as much as any mortal did. He could push his body further, but there were still limits.

He paused to catch his breath and glanced up into the darkening sky. The moon, almost a quarter full, was already high. Hercules had searched everywhere along the route Iolaus should have taken to Corinth. No one had news of him, no one had seen him. He had asked at every inn and tavern and even every brothel (not an experience he wanted to repeat). Along the roads, too, he had found no signs of Iolaus’ passing. Of course, the rainstorm would have washed away any signs, even if the hunter had been careless enough to leave them.

When Hercules remembered the rainstorm, the vague feeling of disquiet returned. Something had happened to Iolaus that night. Somehow he was sure of it. If Iolaus had been travelling that night (he certainly hadn’t been staying in any town nearby) he’d have been looking for shelter.

That thought took Hercules’ search off the roads. It was another hour before he spotted the cave.

There was a narrow pathway, a natural formation of rock, leading to the cave’s entrance. Tightening his grip on the torch, Hercules ducked inside. For a moment he could see nothing. His eyes had to adjust. He stepped over a pile of wood that someone had gathered and left there as he walked deeper into the cavern. Then he spotted Iolaus’ pack. Hercules dropped to his knees beside the pack, jamming his torch into a crack in the floor. With nervous fingers he untied the bundle. He found a leather pouch containing a few dinars, a loaf of bread that had clearly been there a few days, some cheese, Iolaus’ hunting knife and a worn sharpening stone. There was no doubt it was Iolaus’ gear.

Beside the pack, Hercules found the hunter’s sword-belt and his sheath…but no sword. Yet there were no signs of a fight, or a struggle. Certainly — and for this he tried to be grateful — there was no body.

Hercules yanked the torch out of the crack and stood, intending to head deeper into the cave. Some instinct made him turn around instead. A flicker of light near the cave’s mouth caught his eye. Hercules moved toward it.

And there, half-hidden amidst a pile of tinder and twigs, Hercules found it.

A single, perfectly formed peacock’s feather, shining in the flickering light of his torch.

Hercules was instantly alert for danger. His heart was pounding as his eyes searched the cavern for any sign of movement. Any sign of anything. He saw Iolaus’ pack lying where he had left it and the full implications of his find came crashing in.

Iolaus was gone.

And it seemed Hera was responsible.

Hercules’ hand tightened convulsively around his torch. Wood splintered and broke. What had been disquiet was suddenly full-blown terror. The feeling rose up to his throat like bile…up and out in a primal scream of mingled rage and fear and loss:

_ **"HERA!!!"** _

Outside the cave, Selene’s moon shone down, indifferent.


	4. Iolaus' Choice

How in Tartarus did he get himself into these situations? And — a more important question — how was he going to get himself out of it?

Dressed in ill-fitting, stolen clothes (the black and blue livery of the Conqueror’s personal guard, no less), Iolaus waited outside the oak door that led to the Conqueror’s private rooms and wondered how he could have changed so much in just a few days. He was certain that the Iolaus who had been, days before, sheltering from a rainstorm in a cold, dark cave would have found some way to avoid this…this disaster. _Yeah, like, call Hercules,_ his treacherous thoughts suggested.

_Why not?_ He answered that mocking inner voice. Although Iolaus had a feeling Hercules would be as uncertain as he, given the same set of circumstances. There was something about Hercules, that came with being half a god, Iolaus guessed: his complete confidence in his ability to do right. It meant most people couldn’t tell when he was unsure. The son of Zeus had never existed in this world. Hercules, Iolaus’ friend whose company he needed right now as badly as he needed his advice. Together, they were heroes. Together, they could laugh and love and fight and nothing all the gods of Olympus could throw at them would faze either one.

But Iolaus was alone. Perhaps it was the knowledge of what had made this world. Iolaus felt he needed Hercules more than ever before…because it was impossible.

Not really understanding how, or why, Iolaus waited nervously, while on the other side of the door he guarded, Gabrielle — a woman he still thought of as having a pure heart — was preparing to commit a murder. _And he was helping her._ How it did he get himself into this?

***

It had begun three nights before, with Ephiny’s news that the child the Conqueror carried had been born. Gabrielle had questioned Ephiny, her expression seemingly carved in marble, revealing nothing. Then she had left the room, the only sign of emotion, a single glance in Rosoin’s direction. Iolaus knew, as they all knew without being told, that Gabrielle would be going to the main temple to speak with her goddess.

Speaking with Rosoin, Iolaus realised they had been waiting for this. For just an instant, he felt he glimpsed momentous events beginning with this birth. But his certainty that Gabrielle would return with bad news was not so nebulous: born, not of intuition, but of experience.

He was not disappointed.

Generally, if allowed to, Iolaus could sleep very late. The morning after Ephiny reached them from Corinth, Iolaus was awake well before the dawn. Tense and worried, unused to sharing a room with others (except Hercules, of course), Iolaus rose and dressed quickly. He needed to be outside. He took a couple of wrong turns before he found the door that led him into a courtyard.

For the first time, Iolaus truly became aware of his surroundings. He realised where he’d spent the past two days: inside Hera’s temple. He found that thought hilarious. Gods, if Hercules could see him now! Unable to suppress his inappropriate grin, he turned toward the temple gates. There was a wooden bench against the wall near the gates. Iolaus could make out two people sitting there. It took him a moment to recognise Gabrielle and Rosoin: it was hard to see in the pre-dawn darkness.

It was an innocent scene. Gabrielle sat with her head bowed, Rosoin’s arm around her shoulders. Yet Iolaus felt like an intruder. A moment later he realised why: he was remembering seeing Xena and Gabrielle like that. He was about to walk away when Rosoin raised her head and looked at him. He saw her speak quietly to Gabrielle, then she rose and walked toward him. As she came closer Iolaus saw her expression: Rosoin looked grim.

As she reached Iolaus Rosoin said, "Talk to her, Iolaus. She trusts you. She won’t listen to me."

Not understanding, Iolaus frowned. Rosoin walked straight past him, into the temple.

Iolaus joined Gabrielle, sitting beside her on the bench. Trying to keep his tone light, he said, "Let me guess: Hera had some orders you didn’t like."

Gabrielle looked up at met his eyes. She looked terribly pale, her eyes red-rimmed and shadowed from lack of sleep. Iolaus’ expression betrayed concern and friendship, nothing more.

"You don’t know, you _can’t_ know what it was like. It was never just about what happened to me." Her eyes begged him to understand.

"What is it about?" he asked gently.

"Orestes was our leader. When Darphus…killed him, I was left with a demoralised group. Half of them wanted to run, the rest wanted to murder Darphus. For Orestes’ sake, I had to do _something_."

"So you went to Hera?"

Gabrielle nodded slowly, but she said, "Hera came to me. How could I refuse the Queen of the Gods? She’s given us so much, Iolaus. She helped me find others, like Ephiny. She gave us this sanctuary, and our strength."

_Strength? What strength? You’re a pitiful band of refugees hiding in a temple. _But Iolaus couldn’t say it. That had always been Hera’s way: her price was high and her gifts ephemeral as smoke. He had a feeling he knew what was coming. "What does she want in return?" he asked.

"She wants me to kill the Conqueror’s son."

"That’s Hera all over!" Iolaus burst out, without thinking. "She likes to murder children." The bitterness was obvious.

Gabrielle was looking at him curiously, but he couldn’t explain.

"I want the Conqueror to suffer," Gabrielle announced harshly. "She deserves it: she’s killed so many, caused so much suffering…"

"A baby is innocent of her crimes, Gabrielle," Iolaus interrupted. She kept taking him by surprise. One moment she would seem like the Gabrielle he knew in his world and he would begin to relax. The next she would say something like this.

"It’s what Hera wants," Gabrielle repeated stubbornly.

Iolaus swore. "Did you think to ask her _why_?" he demanded, exasperated.

She stared at him in surprise. "Would you question the gods?"

"_**Yes!**_" Iolaus snapped forcefully. "Gabrielle, the gods are powerful, and I’ll never deny that, but when have they ever truly helped us? When have any of them done anything that could begin to justify your blind obedience?" He found he was holding her, making her look at him as he spoke. "Hera is a power-hungry bitch whose only interest is herself. You’re _nothing_ to her, Gabrielle. Would a good goddess ask you to murder a baby?"

Gabrielle bowed her head and didn’t reply.

Iolaus released her and leaned back, looking up at the lightening sky. He remembered…_a perfect summer day, many years before…returning with Hercules from some adventure… Deianeira’s gorgeous smile when she looked out of the window and saw her husband coming …then the shouts and laughter of the children running to greet their father…Hercules lifted Ilea off the ground as she reached him, and she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck…_

Bittersweet memories for Iolaus, painfully aware of how different his life would have been if Deianeira and the kids had lived.

Then the thought occurred: what possible interest could Hera have in Xena’s baby?

Oh, sure, it was unlikely Hera would be fond of Xena: the Conqueror was conspicuously in Ares’ service, but this order was very specific. It was the son, not the mother who was Hera’s target. Why the child? If not Xena, then…_ Oh, by the gods!!_ Why hadn’t he seen it before? The image he was seeing suddenly was profoundly uncomfortable, but suddenly he was certain his guess was right. Xena’s son was the son of Ares. It explained a lot. But before he had time to think through the implications…

"Iolaus? What is it?"

Iolaus shook his head. He didn’t dare tell her. "Nothing," he said, dismissing the thought until he had time to consider it properly. "What are you going to do?" he asked her.

"Obey Hera." Gabrielle’s voice was expressionless. "What choice do I have?" she asked aloud. "I swore to pay her price. If I fail her…"

Gabrielle had no need to go on. Iolaus, and everyone else in the world, knew it would not pay to betray the queen of the gods.

Then Gabrielle looked up at Iolaus. "Last night…you said you’d help us."

"Not," Iolaus replied determinedly, "with this."

***

"It can’t be done, Gabrielle." Ephiny clearly took no joy in the statement. She had been pleased by Gabrielle’s report of Hera’s orders, making Iolaus wonder what the Conqueror had done to her. He knew it was unlikely he would ever find out. An Amazon would keep her own counsel.

"Everyone," Ephiny went on, "who enters the Palace is known and searched. You can’t sneak in."

Gabrielle did not reply. She was standing, leaning on her staff, allowing the others to talk around her, even though most of them addressed their words to her. At the back of the room, Rosoin sat silently; occasionally Gabrielle would look her way.

"Maybe we could find a secret entrance," Pascilus suggested.

Laughter greeted his statement: some of it indulgent, some scornful. Iolaus looked at the young man with sympathy and bit his tongue on the reply he wanted to make.

"Would it be possible to scale the wall?" Ephiny asked doubtfully. "I’ve seen a crossbow adapted to fire a grappling hook…"

"Not a chance," Iolaus put in. That was safe: telling them what they could not do. "You’d never get a crossbow into the city. And even if you could, you’d be dead before you got halfway. That’s how you get inside somewhere that’s _poorly_ guarded. Darphus is no fool, and Xena is a military genius. It won’t work."

"Perhaps from below?" someone else volunteered. There might be a drainage tunnel or something."

Ephiny looked interested. "Yeah, that could work. But that would be a one-person job."

"Me." It was Gabrielle’s voice.

"_No!_"

Three voices spoke together: Ephiny, surprised, Rosoin, pleading, Iolaus, forceful.

"I’ve been inside the Palace," Gabrielle reminded them. "None of you have."

_I have…_ But Iolaus didn’t say it. What he did say was, "You’d be seen and killed before you even got close." _And that’s if you’re lucky._

Gabrielle swallowed, her green eyes meeting his with calm determination. "That’s a risk I must take."

Iolaus couldn’t believe it. "For _Hera_?" he exclaimed.

"For all of us."

It was then that Iolaus made the decision.

In the end, it wasn’t for his ideals. There was no agonised soul-searching, no vacillation. It was quite simply the only decision he could make. The reason: Iolaus loved Gabrielle. Had loved her since the day she waited with him in a cave, even though they were strangers, her stories helping him cling to life, while Hercules and Xena went on to free Prometheus, knowing that one of them would never return. It wasn’t a grand passion, though he would not have denied that, given different circumstances it could have become so. He didn’t yearn for Gabrielle when they were apart, she didn’t star in his fantasies. But he loved her. It was a fact of his life, part of the way he perceived the world.

Iolaus could not listen to her calmly accept her own death in a hopeless cause, and stay silent.

"No," he heard himself say. "There’s another way…"

***

Iolaus had grown up around Corinth. More that that, as a young man he had spent a great deal of time in the King’s castle…because Jason had been, even then, one of his best friends. Kingship hadn’t been easy for Jason to get used to. He had come to his throne too young: while he had good intentions (and he _was_ a good king) he also had the same spirit of adventure that Hercules and Iolaus possessed. It was what made them such good friends.

Iolaus, with his practical joker’s soul, often had to devise diversions for the young king.

He remembered one particular night vividly. Jason had been going over the plans of the castle, because a wall needed repair, or something, and Iolaus had spotted something interesting. Later that night, the three of them had gone out into the city. Finally, a little the worse for drink, they had created a competition between them. Iolaus genuinely couldn’t remember who had instigated it. It was probably him, but he couldn’t remember. Whatever, the challenge had been to get into the castle, past the various guards and fortifications.

Jason had been certain he would win. The castle was his home, after all, and he knew its twists and turns better than anyone. Hercules had not claimed the victory, but his look had said clearer than words that he expected Iolaus in third place. Naturally offended by that, Iolaus was determined to win.

He had won. Because he had been looking closely at those plans earlier in the day. Plans which had shown an escape tunnel leading from the throne room into the city.

Iolaus, enjoying the joke, had kept his secret for two days afterward. When Jason finally dragged the answer out of him he had the tunnel closed off.

Iolaus knew that the castle would have been altered by Xena, but it was the same building. He was sure that entrance would still be there.

Ironic, really, that he knew the old castle so well because of his friendships with Jason and Hercules. Both of them, in this world, were dead.

***

They had taken time to make their plans. To train, to practice. Plenty of time for Iolaus to consider the consequences of what they planned to do. To wish he could find some other way. Gabrielle, these others, they could be forgiven for what they believed. They knew Xena, the Conqueror, as an emotionless monster, cruel and heartless. Iolaus knew better. He _knew_ he knew better. Indeed, a week later, when the full consequences of their actions became known, Iolaus would remember his uneasiness as a premonition and curse himself and his stupidity by every god he knew.

When the night came, however, he didn’t think, only acted.

Getting into the Palace was almost as easy as it had been before. The tunnel had obviously been discovered when Xena took over the castle, but rather than destroy the tunnel they had diverted it. It led into the laundry, now, which made their task even easier. It was night, and the laundry was dark and empty. Iolaus moved ahead of the others to the door. He opened it a crack and seeing no one, slipped into the corridor, intending to grab a torch for light. Just as he was reaching for it he heard a sound.

Iolaus recognised the soldier’s livery and tossed the torch away. He darted toward the man, striking out with his fist so quickly the soldier was taken completely by surprise. He went down without a sound, and Iolaus caught him. He dragged the unconscious body out of the corridor. As he did, he caught Ephiny’s eye: the Amazon was holding the torch he had thrown and he saw her nod approvingly.

"Find something we can use for rope," Iolaus instructed. He began to strip the uniform from the soldier’s body.

"What are you doing?" Gabrielle hissed. "We don’t have time for…"

Iolaus kept working. "That sapphire won’t protect us from the Conqueror’s guards, Gabrielle," he told her. Gods, what did she think? That they were just going to walk through the corridors unnoticed?

Concealed beneath her clothing, Gabrielle wore an sapphire necklace worth, to Iolaus’ eyes a thousand dinars at least. It was more than a jewel, however. The sapphire was Hera’s: it would conceal them from the sight of the gods, or so she said. Iolaus didn’t really understand that. What he had understood, was what Gabrielle’s possession of that jewel meant: how much the queen of the gods trusted Gabrielle. The idea scared him.

Iolaus knew it was unlikely the soldier’s livery would fit him. He was right. Still, clothes too big were better than too small. He bundled up his own clothing, hoping they would be able to retrieve it, and led then out into the Palace. The clumsy disguise did allow them to walk through the Palace more or less unchallenged. Iolaus’ knowledge of Jason’s castle, coupled with Gabrielle’s year-old memory of the Palace led them to the Conqueror’s private apartments with only a few wrong turns and only one minor incident. There were two guards outside the heavy oak door that led to the Conqueror’s rooms. Ephiny and Iolaus dealt with them together: Iolaus rendered one unconscious easily, Ephiny killed the other with a stiletto blade, a method that meant there was very little blood. She wiped the knife on her cloak and slid it back into her boot.

"Okay, from here you’re on your own," Iolaus told them. "I’ll wait out here. Ephiny…" he caught the Amazon woman’s arm as she began to turn away, "if Xena’s in there — "

Ephiny interrupted. "She won’t be. She’s in conference with her generals."

How could she know that? Iolaus wondered. There wasn’t time to ask. "_If_ she’s in there," he insisted, "don’t even _think_ of fighting. She can kill with a touch."

He wasn’t sure if Ephiny believed him. She merely nodded grimly and entered the chamber, dragging the dead guard after her.

Iolaus leaned weakly against the doorframe. _How in Tartarus did I get myself into this?_

***

Gabrielle had seen death. She had seen far more of it that a simple Poteideian farmer’s daughter ever should. She had no blood family left. In the aftermath of her village’s destruction she had fled east, to Thessaly. There, scraping a living in a seaport, trying desperately to raise enough dinars for passage on a ship, she had met, purely by chance, the man she later followed to Corinth. Orestes, exiled prince of Attica. He was running from the Conqueror himself. After meeting Gabrielle, he had decided that the best place to hide was in plain sight: in the Conqueror’s own city. Along the way they had met others, eventually forming the small group of rebels that Gabrielle, after Orestes’ death, had tried to lead.

Yes, she had seen death. She had come frighteningly close to experiencing it. But never in her life had Gabrielle killed.

She had accepted Hera’s orders despite that. As she had told Iolaus, she really had no choice. Rosoin had tried to tell her that thinking a thing and doing it were not the same. Gabrielle had not listened.

When Iolaus had taken the soldier outside the laundry, Gabrielle began to realise what Rosoin had meant. Watching Ephiny’s efficient murder of another soldier made her feel weak and ill.

It had all been too easy. They should, Gabrielle thought, have been stopped and killed before she got this far. Before she had to make this choice.

She looked for the first time upon her enemy and wished she could be anywhere else. The Conqueror’s son and heir was a baby. A _baby_. Tiny. Helpless. Innocent. The creature she had come to kill.

Gabrielle thought of Rosoin, who had borne a son she wasn’t permitted to raise.

She thought of Iolaus: _"A baby is innocent of her crimes, Gabrielle…Hera likes to murder children."_

She thought of Hera. _"The Conqueror betrayed you…You must pay whatever price I ask."_

She looked again at the baby. He was innocent now. But the Conqueror would raise her son to be exactly like herself. A monster.

"Gabrielle," Ephiny said. She was holding out a knife.

Swallowing her revulsion, Gabrielle took it.

From the doorway, Iolaus hissed, "Gabrielle!"

She turned, the knife in her hand.

"There’s no more time, Gabrielle." Iolaus urged. "Come. Now."

Gabrielle, in an agony of indecision, looked from Iolaus to Ephiny and then to the cradle. Making a sudden, impulsive decision, she jammed the knife into her belt. She scooped up the baby: blankets and all, and with Ephiny following open-mouthed behind her, fled from the room.


	5. Iris

Gods do not bleed and they cannot feel pain. This is the nature of immortality. It should follow, then, that gods cannot feel fear.

The day that in her world began with Iolaus and Gabrielle fleeing into the dawn, carrying a baby only a few days old to an unknown destiny; the same day, in another world, that saw a certain demigod march into a temple with rage and fear in his heart…this was the day that one goddess, at least, learned the meaning of fear.

Iris’ day began innocently enough.

Summoned early by Hera, the rainbow messenger goddess appeared obediently in her queen’s presence. Hera’s private rooms were opulent: gold and jewels in evidence everywhere, but Iris barely noticed. Hera’s love of ostentation was old news. What Iris did notice was the chamber’s single mirror: Hera’s window to the mortal world. Normally a non-reflective black, this morning the mirror shone silver. In its depths, she could see an image, but not clearly enough to know who, or what, had caught Hera’s interest.

But then, Iris had her own ways of gathering information.

The image flickered and changed, and Iris saw a single sharp picture. The Palace of the Conqueror in Corinth.

"You know the place, Iris?" Hera asked her.

"The Conqueror’s Palace? Of course." With some trepidation, Iris added, "But the Conqueror belongs to Ares…"

Hera turned steely eyes onto her servant. "And if I say otherwise?" she asked.

Iris recognised danger in Hera’s silky voice. She bowed. "As you command, great Hera."

Satisfied, Hera gave Iris her orders. She sent her to the Palace, telling her she didn’t have to _do_ anything. Only witness.

Iris was confused. "Witness what?" she asked, unwisely. If Hera wanted information there were a dozen easier ways to obtain it.

"If I knew, would I be sending you?" Hera snapped. "Just go down there, float around for a while and take note of what you see. _Then_," — the words held a subtle threat — "you can come back."

"Yes, my queen."

Like all of the gods, Iris could travel instantaneously, simply by appearing wherever she wanted to be. She preferred to fly, however, leaving her signature rainbow in the sky. What appeared to be a cloak when she was on the ground, opened out into massive, gossamer wings when she flew, and the exhilaration of flight was like nothing else. Real joy was rare in a god’s life, and Iris treasured it.

Passing invisibly over the gates of Corinth she saw a man and a woman hurrying away from the city. Iris smiled to herself. The gods of Olympus thought they rules the world, but the lives of mortals would go on with or without them. She wondered in passing if Aphrodite even knew the young couple below her.

Seeing the Palace ahead, Iris slowed her flight and came to land just outside the gates. Invisible to mortal eyes, the guards meant nothing to her. She walked straight past them into the Palace. Iris had been here before. The Conqueror’s chamber was not hard to find.

***

Years before, in the smouldering remains of a nameless village, Xena, not then the Conqueror, had given an order and a baby had died. A baby. She had been afraid to allow her rebellious lieutenant to see what she knew would be perceived as weakness in her. In that baby, she had seen the son she had abandoned. The son no one would ever know was hers. She gave Solan away to protect him: even in the madness that had possessed her soul then, Xena had recognised what she was, and known hers was no life for a child.

Now, she had another son. This time would be different.

Oh, yes, the Conqueror had enemies. But she had armies now, and loyal servants. Her son would be safe. What threat could mortal enemies pose a half-god child anyway?

…These were the thoughts in the Conqueror’s mind as she walked into her chamber, tired after a conference that had lasted all night. She barely noticed the guard on her door: he was a permanent fixture, noticed only if absent.

Daunus, walking beside her, was still talking. Something about a brewing rebellion in Parius.

Tired and impatient, Xena silenced her advisor with a gesture. "Daunus, if it can’t wait, just deal with it."

"You don’t wish to remedy the situation personally, Conqueror?" Daunus asked calmly.

The Conqueror considered it. It _had_ been a long time since she rode into battle. "No," she decided finally. "Send Darphus. Maybe letting him burn a few rebels will improve his temper." As she spoke, she was stripping off her outer robe. Casually, she tossed it over a chair.

Then she stopped, suddenly alert. This room was too quiet…something was wrong.

Fear and instinct sent her running into the next room. Her baby’s room.

Two guards were dead. Two women lay, bound, blindfold and gagged, on the floor. The cradle was empty.

***

The sound of the Conqueror’s scream would live with Iris for eternity, far more so than the bloody events that followed.

Daunus, not Xena, was the first to act, crossing from the doorway of the Conqueror’s room to her wide balcony, searching the obvious exit-point first. He found nothing, of course. Xena’s scream had instantly summoned soldiers, and Daunus began to bark orders.

"Seal off the Palace and the city. No one, _no one_ enters or leaves." The soldier turned and left at once. "You — get Darphus here now. I don’t care what he’s doing, _now._ And you — bring a physician. The rest of you — out." The guards fled.

Apprehensively, Daunus returned to Xena. No other man alive would have dared to approach her in that state. She heard his approach and lashed out, venting her emotion on Daunus for no other reason than because he was there. The room smelled of blood from the dead guards. Daunus had no chance to defend himself against Xena. But lying on his back, staring up at her wild eyes, he said — spoke, not shouted — "Conqueror. If killing me will make you feel better, it is my honour to die."

Daunus’ impossible serenity helped to calm Xena. Wordlessly, she reached out a hand and helped him up.

He spoke again. "Xena…your son has a father." Daunus was the only one she had trusted with that secret. "Perhaps…" he began.

The Conqueror was beyond caution. As the meaning of Daunus’ words sank in, she looked up and raised her voice. Shouted a single word.

"_Ares!!!_"

Listening, Iris recoiled.

She had taken little interest in the Conqueror. Ares’ power on earth was Zeus’ problem, but the king of the gods, too, had seemed to take little notice. Iris had been aware of the war god’s close relationship with the Conqueror, but had thought little of it. Now she wished she had.

Ares fathered the Conqueror’s son.

Hera, must have known. She had to be behind the baby’s death…or disappearance. Why else would she have sent Iris here?

What was Iris still doing here?

The Conqueror’s voice, shouting her lover’s name, reached out with more than mere sound. Iris knew Ares would have heard the summons.

It was not a good idea to hang around. In a shower of rainbow sparkles, she vanished.

***

Iris did not report to Hera right away. Shaken by her discovery, not certain if Ares had been aware of her presence, Iris decided she needed more information. Needing to avoid the queen of the gods, she asked permission of Zeus, not Hera, then retired to her own rooms to investigate. All of history was available to her on Olympus. Iris wasn’t sure what she was looking for, however, and there was a lot of history to plough through.

At one point, in her random surfing through history, Iris found a scene from the present:

_A man with blond, tousled curls and a woman were sheltering in a woodland clearing. The woman seemed to be in pain. Her eyes were closed, red-blonde hair covering much of her face. The man was helping her. He smiled at something she said — _a joke, Iris assumed.

_"Feel better?" the man asked._

_"Mmm. Much better." She sighed, leaning back with her weight resting on her elbows behind her. "Where did you learn that?"_

_The man shrugged. "Here and there. Xena taught me a few things."_

_The woman sat up, her green eyes wide with shock. "Xena!"_

Iris, too, was suddenly paying close attention.

_The man (_and now Iris remembered him_) merely smiled. "Yes, Xena. Did you forget? In my world she’s a hero. And a good friend of mine."_

_(_In "**my world"**?_)_

_After an awkward silence, the woman said softly, "Tell me about your Xena."_

_He chuckled. "Not ‘my’ Xena." It seemed to be a private joke. "She’s an amazing warrior and a true hero. She travels around Greece, helping people, fighting warlords. Fighting Ares." The man gave a shrug. "Pretty much what Hercules and I do."_

Iris allowed the vision to fade. There was definitely something strange going on.

She recognised the name "Hercules" too. She knew she had heard the name before. But before she could place the memory…

— the sky itself shook with thunder —

— a great cry of rage echoed through the halls of Olympus —

— a huge ripple of energy pulsed through the air —

Something terrible had happened.

***

Iris’ first thought was to ask Zeus what had happened. Abandoning her research, she willed herself quickly to the throne room of the King of the Gods. There was no sign of Zeus. Yet his throne was occupied…by the black-clad god of war.

"Just the goddess I wanted to see," Ares announced. Moving too fast for Iris to react, he closed a hand over her wrist with an iron grip, preventing her escape. Eyes darkened with anger bored into hers, and Iris shuddered. Goddess or not, Ares’ power far exceeded hers.

"Where is my son?" he demanded.

Behind Ares, Iris could see Hera, silently gliding into the room.

"Wh- why would you think I know?" Iris stammered.

"Don’t play with me, Iris," Ares hissed. "You’ll tell me what you and Zeus have done. Or you can join him in Tartarus."

_Tartarus…even Ares wouldn’t dare…_

Iris was saved from having to reply by Hera’s appearance. Coldly she stared at her son, still sitting in his father’s place. "What have you done?" she enquired.

"What I should have done centuries ago." Ares maintained his grip on Iris’ wrist.

Hera’s eyes never left the war god. Very, very calmly, she repeated, "What. Have. You. Done?"

Ares relented and explained. Iris, as she realised what had happened, felt weak.

Ares had been plotting against Zeus for years. It was an open secret on Olympus. What she hadn’t realised was that the son he had made with Xena, the Conqueror was a part of that plot. When the child disappeared — and Ares discovered Iris had been on the scene — he had assumed that Zeus was acting against him. As was to be expected from the God of War, he retaliated at once.

Ares had apparently confronted Zeus, demanding answers. Naturally, Zeus hadn’t a clue what he was talking about, but Ares in a rage was not about to take Zeus at his word. He couldn’t "see" the baby. So, obviously, his son was being hidden from him by a god.

How Ares had done it, Iris couldn’t imagine. But he’d trapped the god, using one of Hephaestus’ many inventions. (Ares and Hephaestus working together against Zeus? Iris hadn’t anticipated _that_, either.) Zeus would stay there until all his powers faded away. Clearly, Ares intended to assume the throne of Olympus.

Iris looked from Hera to Ares. The Queen of the Gods looked as angry as her son. Iris began to wonder if Tartarus might not be safer than here.

"If the child still lives, you can find him," Hera suggested smoothly.

And suddenly Iris realised why she was so angry.

"Xena will find our son," Ares assured Hera. "But in the meantime…" He turned to Iris with murder in his eyes.

"Iris is a messenger," Hera interposed silkily, "not a kidnapper. And I have work for her." Hera’s long fingers touched the hand of her son, and he released his grip on Iris’ wrist. "…If you don’t mind, son," she smiled.

Ares’ look darkened and he seemed about to argue. Then he thought better of it. He shrugged. "There’s no hurry. While the boy is missing, I can enjoy watching Xena slaughtering her way through the countryside."

***

At the end of that long day, Iris left Hera’s chamber. She willed herself into the mortal world, to the only place she knew where she might be safe from Ares. She knew Hera had used her. She believed Hera had misled Ares intentionally. The Conqueror had been supposed to find a dead child; and Iris and Zeus were supposed to get the blame. Why? Hera’s motives were always a mystery.

Another mystery: many years earlier, a mortal man had travelled through time in a vain attempt to save one of Zeus’ many mortal lovers from a strange goddess’s fire. Iris had seen _the same man_ today, in the company of one of Hera’s mortal servants. Had seen him twice, she realised: outside the gates of Corinth at dawn, and later, sheltering in a forest somewhere. Could there be a connection? There almost _had_ to be.

Iris was only a minor goddess. Caught between Hera’s schemes and Ares’ rage, she was the only being anywhere who knew everything that was going on. Even if she hadn’t put all the pieces together, yet. Knowledge was Power, but for the first time in her immortal existence, Iris had no idea what to do with that knowledge.

This was the day that Iris, rainbow messenger of Hera and Zeus, learned the meaning of Fear.


	6. Zeus

"You’re crazy!"

Iolaus’ first reaction when he realised what Gabrielle had done was natural enough, but he quickly dismissed any thought of returning to the Palace. They had been more than lucky to get in and out without being discovered. It surely wouldn’t be long before an empty cradle would be discovered in the Conqueror’s chambers. If they were going to survive, they had to be a long way from Corinth when that happened.

Iolaus was forced to think quickly. "Gabrielle, is there anywhere we can go that’s safe from Xena? Does she have a treaty with anyone, maybe?"

"The Centaurs," Ephiny offered.

"What? Which centaurs?"

"On what used to be the Amazon border," Ephiny answered. Her eyes closed briefly. "The Conqueror was at war with them years ago. It looked as though she was going to wipe them out when somehow they reached a truce and she withdrew. The Conqueror won’t attack their lands. She even went around that area when she attacked the Amazons."

_Because she left her son with them,_ Iolaus remembered. "Will the centaurs help us?"

Ephiny shrugged. "Maybe. They’ve been known to take in refugees sometimes."

But an enemy of the Conqueror would be a different thing. Particularly given the reason for the Conqueror’s truce with the centaurs.

"It sounds like a plan, anyway." Iolaus decided. "Ephiny, go back to the temple and get Rosoin and the others out of there. We’ll…"

Gabrielle interrupted. "Iolaus, they’re safe in the temple. Why…?"

"Not any more, they’re not. Hera is going to know soon that you’ve disobeyed her and she’s a vengeful bitch."

Gabrielle went white. She was holding the baby in her arms, cradling it as tenderly as if she was the child’s mother herself. Did she truly not understand that this was likely to get them all killed?

"There’s nowhere we’ll be safe, then," Ephiny put in.

"Ephiny, you’re an Amazon. Lead them to safety. Lead them to the centaurs. Once you’re out of the temple, you’ll only have Xena to worry about. She’ll be coming after us."

"What about _you_? Think you can take on the Conqueror’s army alone?"

_If Hercules was with me, yeah._ Iolaus shook his head. "No. But she can’t drag an army through thick forest. I know a few old hunter’s tricks — we’ll be safe from Xena."

"And from Hera?" Gabrielle asked.

Iolaus hesitated, but he couldn’t lie to her. She needed to know.

"Hera will want both you and that baby dead. I think she’ll send her archers after us. At least, we can hope so."

Ephiny choked. "You _hope_ so?"

Iolaus realised how that must have sounded. He grinned at the Amazon. "Yeah. Her archers I can fight. If she gets more creative…we’re dead."

"Creative?"

_Hydra, minotaurs, she-demons, fireballs, two enforcers…_ "Trust me, Ephiny, you don’t want to know." _Maybe we’ll get lucky._

***

#### Another World…

The doors of the temple stood open. It was just as well, as Hercules was in no mood to be stopped by a mere door. As he marched into the temple, a priest saw him and began to approach, then, stopped perhaps by the set, determined frown on the demigod’s face, the priest backed off nervously.

Hercules hadn’t even noticed. All of his attention was focussed on the temple’s square, simple altar. He took a breath and shouted at the top of his voice:

"_**Zeus!**_"

Years before, when Hera murdered his family, Hercules had begged his father for help. Zeus hadn’t even appeared to face him. This time, Hercules wasn’t going to give the King of the Gods that option. Here, in Zeus’ own temple, the god had to at least answer his son’s summons. Whether he would stay was another matter…

"_**ZEUS!!**_" Hercules called again. "Father!"

A soft flash of golden light. "What is it, son? I was just…"

"_Don’t_ pretend you don’t know," Hercules snapped.

Zeus raised his eyebrows. "I’m sorry to tell you, but I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Fine." Hercules slammed the peacock feather down on Zeus’ altar — none too gently. "I found that, and Iolaus’ things. No Iolaus." His voice became dangerously quiet. "Where is she, father? If she’s out of Tartarus, _you should have** told** me_. I can’t believe you didn’t know about this."

Zeus picked up the feather, turning it over in his hands. "Hercules, Hera is in Tartarus where she belongs. Exactly where you left her. Son, in a thousand years, Chronos hasn’t escaped the abyss. Did you really think Hera could?"

Calmer now — just a little — Hercules answered, "Not until I found that. Iolaus is gone, father. I want an explanation."

"I’m sorry. I don’t watch you every moment, you know."

Hercules raised his eyes to the heavens. "Don’t avoid the issue. I want to know what happened to Iolaus. And I want to know _now._"

"‘I want’," Zeus repeated mockingly, then stopped, seeing the look in his son’s face. He sighed heavily. "I would help you if I could."

Nothing irritated Hercules quicker than Zeus’ false modesty about his power. "I thought we were past that, Zeus. I know exactly what I’m asking. And I know exactly how hard it might be. You _owe_ me, damn you!"

"Why is it always for that scruffy blond you break down the gods’ doors?" Zeus muttered. Hercules didn’t answer: Zeus knew the answer to that.

"Alright, son," the god said eventually. "I’ll see what I can find out for you." In another spill of golden light, the god vanished.

Zeus was gone a surprisingly short time. To Hercules, it was an eternity. He couldn’t simply sit down and wait. He paced back and forth in front of the altar, oblivious to the nervous glances of his father’s priests. Despite Zeus’ assurance that Hera was still imprisoned in the abyss of Tartarus, he wasn’t so sure. He knew what Hera’s presence felt like: she’d plagued him most of his life. And she had been in that cave.

Minutes later, finally, Zeus reappeared. The old god’s expression was grim and Hercules’ heart contracted with fear.

"Well," Zeus began, his words carefully measured, "it seems we were both right, son. Hera took your friend." — Hercules’ frown deepened — "But _not_," Zeus insisted, "the Hera of this world."

Hercules thought he understood. "What are you talking about? The Sovereign’s world?"

"No," Zeus sighed. "However difficult it might be for you to believe, that ‘world’ is a part of this one. Its necessary mirror. Iolaus was taken into a different world entirely. Another timeline, if that makes any sense."

Strangely enough, it did make sense. But Zeus’ explanation raised even more questions. "Why?" Hercules asked, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer.

"You expect me to explain Hera? I don’t know why."

"Can you bring him back?" Hercules asked hopefully.

Zeus shook his head. "No."

A sudden surge of anger and Hercules burst out, "Can’t or _won’t_?"

"I can’t. Hercules, there are thousands of worlds. I wouldn’t know where to start." Zeus sounded so frustrated that Hercules believed him. "I don’t know how Hera could have done it. Unless Iolaus was somehow a part of that world, the crossover should be impossible."

Hercules’ blue eyes widened. "Then I know where he is."

He had been unable to do anything but watch, trapped in that weird gateway between worlds, while Iolaus tried — and failed — to save Alcmene from Callisto and Hope. Through Iolaus, he had seen enough of that world to know that it was not a pleasant place.

Telling Zeus the story did not take long. It was weird to realise that he knew something the King of the Gods didn’t. "If you can’t bring Iolaus back, can you send me after him?" He was expecting another no: Hercules didn’t exist in that world.

Zeus looked away from his son. "I can _try_. But I won’t do it, Hercules."

"Why not?!!"

"Because it would be a one-way trip."

"I’ll take that risk."

"_I_ won’t."

If Zeus had told him it was impossible, Hercules might have believed him and given up. But even the thin thread of hope his father offered was enough to keep the idea in his mind. He and Iolaus had been through too much together for him to give up now. Hercules kept on at Zeus. When persistence failed, he tried blackmail, when that failed he tried begging, when begging failed, he tried threats. If Zeus wouldn’t send him after Iolaus, Hercules told him, maybe another god would. Ares, for instance, would be overjoyed by the prospect of a world without Hercules…

Zeus surrendered.

"There _might_ be a way," he admitted, eventually. He held out his hand to his son. "Come with me."

Without hesitation, Hercules took his father’s hand. "Where are we going?"

"To visit Hephaestus."

***

"Iolaus…" Gabrielle gasped. "I don’t think…I can go…any further."

It was the first complaint she had made all day, but when Iolaus turned to look at her he wished he’d paid more attention. Gabrielle was leaning heavily against a tree, one arm supporting her, while she cradled the baby against her with her other hand. Her face was pale, her breath coming in gasps.

"Gods, Gabrielle, I’m sorry." Iolaus moved to her side, quickly. "You’re in pain."

My legs…"

He opened his arms to her and she allowed him to hold her, leaning against him gratefully. For a long while, neither of them spoke.

"Gabrielle…" Iolaus broke the silence. "We have to keep going. Just a little further, ’till we can find a place to camp."

"I’ll try."

"Let me help you." He took the baby from her and steadied her with his other arm. She leaned on him and he found his arm sliding around her waist as they began to walk again. They were leaving a trail a blind man could follow, Iolaus thought disgustedly, but hopefully he had been able to cover their tracks earlier. It should be enough.

He followed the sound of water and wasn’t disappointed. A deep stream cut a clearing through the woods. Iolaus saw a flicker of silver in the water — fish. They really were in luck…or maybe not. He could cut fishing poles but he didn’t have any twine.

Though food wasn’t their immediate problem, he realised as he helped Gabrielle to sit down. She stretched her legs out in front of her, rubbing at the painful areas.

Iolaus knelt beside her. "Let me help?" he offered. When she nodded he handed her the baby, rooting around in his pack for the milk they had purchased from a farmer before they got off the roads. While she took care of the baby, Iolaus gave her legs a massage. He felt guilty for having forgotten her injuries. Gabrielle wasn’t used to the exercise and he’d pushed her too hard today. He could feel the broken bones, poorly set, beneath her skin as he massaged. Gods, the pain she must be in! He began to understand the change in her.

Slowly, she began to relax. She sighed contentedly. "You should charge for that," she told him.

Iolaus looked up at her with a grin. "Feel better?" he asked.

"Mmm. Much better." She sighed, leaning back with her weight resting on her elbows behind her. "Where did you learn that?"

Iolaus shrugged. "Here and there. Xena taught me a few things."

Gabrielle sat up, her green eyes wide with shock. "Xena!"

Iolaus smiled gently. "Yes, Xena. Did you forget? In my world she’s a hero. And a good friend of mine."

After an awkward silence, the Gabrielle asked softly, "Tell me about your Xena."

He chuckled. "Not ‘my’ Xena." He wondered how Gabrielle would feel if she knew how he had first met Xena…_not a good idea_, he told himself hastily. "She’s an amazing warrior and a true hero. She travels around Greece, helping people, fighting warlords. Fighting Ares. Pretty much what Hercules and I do."

"It’s hard to believe we’re talking about the same Xena," Gabrielle commented.

Iolaus shook his head. "Not for me. Xena has her dark side, Gabrielle. I knew her as a warlord, too." But on that subject he would say no more.

***

#### Another World…

Hephaestus absently polished a blade with a soft chamois cloth as he considered the problem. "How," he asked Hercules, "does that friend of your get himself into so much trouble so often?"

"Talent," Hercules answered dryly. "Can you help us, Hephaestus?" Zeus had brought him to Hephaestus’ forge and left, pleading "an appointment" elsewhere. Long experience told Hercules that was an excuse. It left Hercules to explain the situation, as best he could, to Hephaestus. Not easy, when he didn’t truly understand it all himself.

"Possibly," the god of fire answered. He held the blade up to the light and, satisfied, set it aside. "I need something to work with, though. Something that belongs in that other world."

Hercules produced the peacock feather. "All I have is this."

The scarred god took it from his hands, but after a moment he shook his head. "I’m sorry, Hercules. This was created here."

Hercules was beginning to despair.

"You said Iolaus has been in that world before. Didn’t he bring anything back?"

Hercules shook his head. "No."

"Anything at all. A scrap of cloth. A coin. A grain of sand would be enough."

The demigod’s eyes widened. "The Chronos stone," he said suddenly. "That’s how Iolaus got back here. But…Callisto destroyed it."

Hephaestus snorted. "Not completely, she didn’t. That thing’s more trouble than it’s ever been worth. It can’t be destroyed entirely."

"Okay, then." Hercules could finally allow himself to hope. "I’ll see what I can find."

He turned to go but Hephaestus stopped him. "I’ll go. Just tell me where to look."

***

"This is really good," Gabrielle said, speaking indistinctly around a mouthful of fish. Iolaus had solved the fishing problem by making gaffs — barbed spears — instead of fishing poles. Not the easiest way to fish (_unless you were Hercules_, Iolaus thought sourly) and he had frightened more fish than he’d caught, but several frustrating and frankly hilarious hours later he had gathered enough fish to make a decent meal. After that, the cooking part was easy. Just as well, since Gabrielle was busy with the baby.

She had moved Hera’s sapphire from its place around her neck, concealing it among the baby’s blankets. She said that would prevent Hera or Ares finding them by scrying for the child. Privately, Iolaus, who thanks to Hercules knew a few things about Olympus, wondered if that could be true. Gabrielle was being too trusting of Hera.

Pushing those thoughts aside, for now, he smiled at Gabrielle, acknowledging the compliment. His mouth was too full of fish for him to talk.

Gabrielle took another bite and chewed thoughtfully, her eyes on their campfire. The baby was quiet now, most likely sleeping. For the first time in this crazy day Gabrielle had time to think…and she didn’t much like where her thoughts were taking her.

She glanced at Iolaus and their eyes met. "Where did I go wrong?" she asked him.

She had spoken so quietly Iolaus wasn’t certain he had heard her correctly. "_Did_ you go wrong?" he asked her, seriously.

A flash of anger in her green eyes. "Don’t patronise me!"

The hunter did not look happy. ""I’m not. I’m asking you. Do you really think you did wrong? Or is your real question, ‘How did we get into this mess’?"

"No…I know how we got into this, Iolaus. I was so sure I was doing the right thing. Where did I go wrong?"

Iolaus couldn’t answer at first an the silence dragged on, broken only by the crackling of the campfire. Iolaus tossed on some more wood to have something to do. Then he sat back.

"Gabrielle, if you want to know what I think…making a deal with Hera was a _real _bad move. But I guess you don’t know her like I do." He thought about it a moment longer, then added, "I think your real mistake, though, was deciding Xena had to die."

"How can you say that? After everything she’s done…"

_Hades, I knew she wouldn’t want to hear that._ "I know she’s done some terrible things. And what she did to you…" (_"Break her legs."_) "…I can’t blame you for wanting revenge. Gods, I would, too."

"Then why…?"

"Try to look at it without the anger, Gabrielle. Just for a moment. Have you ever really thought about what would happen if someone managed to kill the Conqueror?"

Gabrielle hesitated, then shook her head. "I don’t…"

"Someone would have to succeed Xena. There can’t be many people strong enough. Do you think Darphus would be a more benevolent emperor?"

She shuddered. "No."

Iolaus let her think about that for a moment. She had never told him how Orestes died. He got the feeling he really wouldn’t want to know. "Killed by Darphus" always sounded like a euphemism…and he knew just enough about the depraved imagination of the man he had known as Xena’s lieutenant not to pursue the subject.

"That’s one possibility," Iolaus said eventually. "If Darphus is anything like the way I remember him — I fought him with Hercules and Xena, once — he wouldn’t be able to keep control for long. The empire would start to break up. Small rebellions in Greece. Larger battles in the furthest parts of the empire. That means war, Gabrielle." He paused, aware that he was being selective in his speculations. "Civil wars are ugly," he went on. "A lot of people would die. Men die in battles. Any sign of rebellion would be met with slaughter. I know you think the Conqueror is bad, but believe me, she could be a lot worse. Anyone left would starve the first winter because the fields have been razed and no one’s left to plant the crops. Then you get disease…and that kills the children." There was an intensity to his words that made Gabrielle flinch. Iolaus had seen the things he was describing: in Troy after three years of a war that lasted for ten. "Is that really what you wanted for the world, Gabrielle?"

She was silent for a long time. Finally, her eyes closed, her voice shaking, she asked him, "Do you really think we’re better off with the Conqueror?"

"I didn’t say that. _The Conqueror_ is a monster and I agree, she has to be stopped. But I don’t think killing her is the answer."

Gabrielle’s smile held a hint of condescension. "You still think she can be reformed, don’t you?"

"I don’t think it’s impossible," he answered. Iolaus returned to his fish, finishing his meal and staying quiet while he let Gabrielle think about what he had said. Was he fooling himself? In his world, Xena had reformed, yes that was true. But that had been after she was kicked out of her own army: she had been alone, and desperate and Hercules had been there. The Conqueror had everything. _No, there **is** good in Xena. I have to believe that._

When Gabrielle turned her eyes to him again, he could see her cheeks were wet with tears. Ashamed, he whispered, "Gabrielle…"

She spoke, not quite looking at him. "Hera came to me when I was dying. She saved my life…"

"…And took your soul."

She frowned and looked down. "Yes, exactly. I trusted her…I guess I was a fool."

"No, never that."

"Now she’ll kill me. Won’t she?"

Reluctantly, Iolaus nodded. "I think she’ll probably try." He moved closer to Gabrielle, reaching for her hand. "Don’t be scared, Gabrielle. It’s not over yet. She has to come through me to get to you."

Gabrielle was crying freely now. "Why? After all I’ve done…why would you risk your life for me?"

She had dragged him away from his world, his life. She couldn’t even remember exactly why…and now, even though for the first time in a year she was sure she had made the right choice, in doing so she had robbed Iolaus of his only way home. He had not mentioned it, but she was sure he must have realised. Yet still, here he was, at her side, helping her, protecting her…willing to risk his life for her sake. Why?

Iolaus was still holding her hand in his. His other hand came up to her face, tilting her chin up, forcing her to look at him. "Don’t you know?" he asked her gently.

She breathed out: it was almost a sob. She leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against her skin.

He kissed her. Very gently, pressing his lips to hers.

Iolaus hadn’t intended to do more than that. But as he began to draw away, her hand stole around his neck and she kissed him back. Her passion was direct and uncomplicated…the last thing he had expected from Gabrielle. But this wasn’t the Gabrielle he knew. Iolaus found himself responding to that simple, undemanding passion. His arms closed around her slim body and he laid her down in the grass.

For a few, sweet hours, Iolaus helped Gabrielle forget their danger and her own wounds. They thought only of each other, making love beneath the trees on the day the world fell to chaos.


	7. War and Retribution

Xena, the Conqueror, was on the march.

The Conqueror’s army, five hundred strong, had begun to assemble within the Palace precinct before the dawn. Horsemen mounted in the main square and waited in ranks, perfectly disciplined. By midmorning, the assembly was complete and the Conqueror’s army rode from her city. Row after row of black-liveried soldiers rode or marched from the Palace, through the city streets. In the morning sunlight, weapons and shields gleamed. Above the army flew two banners: the Conqueror’s dragon blazon and the banner of the god of war. In the centre of the army rode the Conqueror herself.

A simple gold band across her forehead was the Conqueror’s only overt symbol of status, and that was as much functional as it was decorative: it held her glossy, raven hair in place. But no one could mistake the Conqueror for anyone else. Clad in black leather, with highly polished armour plates at her breast, shoulders and wrists, Xena rode her battle-trained palomino with an ease that told of years spent in the saddle. She carried two falchions: swords made in the Roman style, and her signature chakram glinted at her waist. None who looked upon her would doubt her ability to use those weapons. The Conqueror was no figurehead general: she was a warrior of Ares. She rode, straight-backed, her piercing blue eyes like ice, giving orders through her Commander who rode at her side.

A terrible beauty.

Yet, a sight Corinth was glad to see that day. The Conqueror was riding out of her city.

Other than in the Palace itself, where over thirty servants and guards had been executed for their perceived failure to protect the Conqueror’s son, there had been remarkably little bloodshed in Corinth. Even so, for three days and nights the city lived in terror, sealed off from the world by the Conqueror’s order, while soldiers searched dwellings and workshops alike. Innocent and guilty alike cowered in fear while the search went on relentlessly, no one, anywhere excluded. They discovered hidden weapons and concealed wealth. They found banned goods and evidence of treachery and rebellion. By the time it was over the dungeons beneath the Palace were full.

The search produced no sign of the Conqueror’s son.

On the morning the Conqueror rode out of Corinth, the sun shone bright from a clear sky lighting the Conqueror’s way. The disciplined ranks of her army were a magnificent sight: armour, weapons and bridles throwing darts of fire back at the sun.

By noon, the army was riding through the worst storm the province had seen for twenty years.

Afterward, women in markets and men in taverns would speak in hushed voices of witchcraft and sorcery. If none dared name the Conqueror aloud, everyone knew who was meant. And it was only sensible: after all, everyone knew that a sorceress could hear her name spoken across half a continent. Sorcery it certainly was. Not even a week from her childbed, against every rule of decency, the Conqueror was on the march. Those who had seen her — always with hastily averted eyes — could testify that the Conqueror’s leather-clad body was slim, showing no sign of pregnancy, and that her eyes, glacier cold, revealed none of that warmth motherhood ought to bring a woman.

And then there was this storm. Rain, from a sky that had been bright and clear but a moment before. Driving rain. Rain that turned roads into quagmires, fields into marshland and undermined the foundations of houses. Rain that flooded rivers and drowned farms. In one village, it was said, a lightning bolt struck a water tower and it burst open, the water poured out and drowned a child, even as the tower burned, as if the thunderbolt came from Zeus himself.

Which was of course (though this the people did not know) impossible.

Xena the Conqueror was unaware of the gossip. She would have cared nothing for it, had she been told. Let them think her a sorceress if they would. As long as they feared her.

Xena, the Conqueror, the Warrior Queen of Greece, the Butcher of Athens, Scourge of the Horde, the Chosen of Ares, God of War and Ruler of the Known World, cared for only one thing: to find her son. Then she would punish those who had taken him from her. Men would tremble at the memory of their fates for a thousand years.

In every place the Conqueror’s army searched, there was bloodshed. Her troops, commanded in the field by Darphus, showed none of the restraint they used in Corinth. Her army was _everywhere._ Each village, each farm was searched. Everywhere, the slightest sign of resistance from confused and downtrodden people who had no idea what had brought down this scourge, was met with an immediate and deadly response. Roads were lined with crosses and death-wheels. When it became clear they would soon run out of wood, they hanged rebels from trees instead, or from the beams of their own houses. Darphus ordered a row of spikes raised to display the corpses of those foolish enough to resist.

Greece, having known peace for so long under the Conqueror’s rule, would again learn what it meant to defy the Destroyer of Nations.

***

"Magnificent, isn’t she?"

Ares exulted as he turned away from the enticing view. This couldn’t be better if he had planned it! The Conqueror’s idea of peace had suited the god of war: the peace of the sword required slaughter enough to satisfy him. But this… Xena was glorious in her anger…such passionate rage. She would burn her way across Greece searching for her kidnapped son. Ares was almost sorry he hadn’t thought of it himself.

Xena’s son…_his_ son.

Ares had plans for that child.

The Conqueror’s heir would be raised in his father’s image. An immortal warrior, with all of the power and charisma that came from a half-share of godly blood. A great leader. Ares’ kind of leader. Ares would rule the gods while his son ruled the earth.

But the plan had some flexibility…and this was good, too. Better than good. The Warrior Queen in her bloodlust and fury (qualities Ares had spent many attentive hours refining) was an incredible sight. It was a shame he didn’t have time to join her…yet.

"A great achievement, Ares," Hera agreed mildly. Her bored gaze rested on the image Ares had been watching as she joined the would-be king of the gods in his contemplation of the mortal world.

Inwardly, Hera was seething. Not that she cared at all for Zeus’ fate: she didn’t. Hera would have trapped the old man herself had she thought of it. But the _reason_ for Ares rash action — that bothered her. The child was supposed to be dead.

Ares would have known if his son had died — which meant all of Olympus would know. Ares seemed as concerned to find his son as Xena, though for his own reasons. Hera, one of the few on Olympus who knew _all_ the weapons Ares had (recognising in her son a lust for power equal to her own, she had made it her business to know): was aware that if Ares wanted Zeus gone, he would be dead. But instead of killing him, Ares had trapped the god. There could be only one reason.

Ares was searching for his son.

Trapped in Hephaestus’ throne, all of Zeus’ power would slowly die away, leaving him, if it went on long enough, a mere mortal. Ares must believe that the reason he could not find the baby with his own power was because Zeus was somehow hiding the child. Had that been true, the gradual loss of Zeus’ godly powers would eventually have revealed the child to Ares’ othersight.

(And meanwhile the Conqueror would be ravaging the countryside in search of her son. Ares could be so predictable.)

But, of course, Hera knew it wasn’t going to work. She even knew who had the child.

Hera was furious, the more because she dared not show it.

She had _trusted_ Gabrielle. The young rebel had been such a perfect tool: her spirit scarred but not broken; her immense capacity for loyalty lacking only an anchor; her former idealism making her easy to manipulate. So confident had Hera been, that she had given the girl the means by which she now found herself betrayed.

It put Hera in an intolerable situation.

Gabrielle betrayed her. But if Hera acted against her openly, Ares would want to know why. Her son’s eyes were on her constantly: both goddess and god knew that each was the greatest threat to the other’s power. For either of them to act without the other’s knowledge was impossible.

Or…nearly impossible.

Sending Iris to the Conqueror’s Palace had neatly diverted Ares attention, hadn’t it?

Hera was still the Queen of the Gods. Her responsibilities, should she choose to acknowledge them, went beyond personal revenge. With Zeus out of the way, Hera _did_ have other resources.

She would have to think about this…

***

Gabrielle woke up alone.

It was still night and she was shivering with cold, and still half-asleep, reached for a blanket. There was none. She sat up, blinking. Where was Iolaus? Drawing her thin cloak around her shoulders and hugging herself for warmth, Gabrielle remembered their lovemaking. He had called her beautiful…and made her believe it was true. He hadn’t cared that she was crippled. Hadn’t seemed to care, either, that they were in terrible danger.

It was a beautiful memory.

Where was he?

Beginning to feel worried, Gabrielle stood slowly. She picked up the baby, concerned about the cold of the night, but he seemed warm, sleeping peacefully. An unexpected feeling of tenderness welled up in her as she cradled the child…she would never have a child of her own. She would be lucky to live out the week. What would happen to this baby if she died? Gods…she didn’t even know his name.

Gathering the child close to her, Gabrielle called out softly, "Iolaus?"

There was no reply.

She began to walk toward the stream. In the starlit darkness its waters were glistening black. "Iolaus?" she called again. She followed the water downstream a little way. The ground beneath her feet was uneven, and without her staff she found it hard to walk. She hadn’t gone far, but was almost ready to turn back when she saw him.

Iolaus was sitting on a rock above the stream, his legs hanging over the water. Gabrielle, unable to climb up there, called again, "Iolaus? Are you alright?"

Slowly, Iolaus turned to face her. It was dark, but Gabrielle would have sworn he was crying. When he spoke, though, his voice sounded normal. "Everything’s fine, Gabrielle."

"You don’t look ‘fine’."

He leaned down, stretching out a hand to help her up. Gabrielle took it and sat beside him, saying nothing. He would talk to her if he wanted to.

"I’m sorry if you were worried. I didn’t want to disturb you, that’s all."

She reached up to touch his face; her fingers came away wet. "What is it?" she asked gently. "What’s wrong?"

"I’m…finding out what it’s like to lose a brother."

"You have family in your world…?"

He shook his head. "No one who really matters to me. But I have a friend. We’re brothers in a way…closer than that, even."

"Hercules?"

He looked at her in surprise.

"You’ve spoken of him before, Iolaus."

Yes, he had. He followed Callisto through time to save Hercules…

"And I’ve taken you away from that," Gabrielle added guiltily.

"No…" Iolaus took her hand in his. "I don’t blame you, Gabrielle. It’s just…Hercules and I have been through so much together. This past year…it was Tartarus. I can’t imagine what he must be thinking… When you first brought me here, I thought he’d find a way to get me back. He always has, before. But this world is different. I don’t think he _can_…" The words trailed off.

"I’m sorry," Gabrielle whispered. His arm around her shoulders was warm and he held her close to him. Her head rested on his shoulder; he leaned his cheek against her hair.

***

"Gabrielle. Come on. Wake up."

Gentleness wasn’t working. Iolaus shook her roughly by the shoulders.

Gabrielle revived a little. "Cold…" she murmured.

Iolaus began to breathe again. Used to the outdoor life, he had noticed, but not paid attention to the sudden drop in temperature until the snow started. He didn’t know what in Hades was going on. He had checked on Gabrielle, unwilling to disturb her sleep, and found her skin pale and cold. He wasn’t panicking, yet, but he was close to it.

"I know you’re cold. Gabrielle, we _have_ to find shelter. Come on."

She pulled the cloak more tightly around her, seeming not to hear.

Iolaus recognised the early symptoms of hypothermia. The baby…for a moment he was concerned, but the baby seemed fine. It confirmed his suspicion that the child wasn’t mortal.

"Gabrielle, _now._" He spoke firmly, lifting her bodily off the ground and as she struggled, weakly, he set her on her feet. He had to support her with one arm.

What was happening? It was snowing for Zeus’ sake! The only other time Iolaus had known weather like this out of season was when Hades kidnapped Persephone. For a moment, that thought made him pause, as an idea danced just out of his reach. Then he focussed once again on the immediate problem. There would be time to speculate when he had Gabrielle warm and safe.

Gabrielle, leaning heavily against him, asked, "Baby…?"

At least she was thinking. "He’s okay. Can you walk, Gabrielle?"

"Try…"

They began to move, Iolaus half-helping, half dragging Gabrielle with him. He was trying to remember if there were caves nearby…in his world. The terrain should be the same, shouldn’t it? They could probably find shelter in a village. But that was too great a risk…wasn’t it? It might be Gabrielle’s only chance.

He made her carry the baby, hoping that having to care for someone else would make her try harder. They stumbled on through the snow. Iolaus looked back, once, as they walked. There was no way to hide their tracks. It worried him, but there was nothing he could do about it.

_One thing at a time, Iolaus._

***

"I say we go here." Commander Darphus pointed at the unrolled map with his dagger.

Xena glanced at the map. It was dark in the tent, but her single candle was placed over the map: she could see it clearly. "You mean search the peninsula before we move on to the mainland?" she clarified.

"Exactly."

Daunus waited a short distance away from the table. Not truly a military man, he had no part in this discussion. He would be the first to admit that Darphus was better qualified to discuss weapons and strategies. Daunus’ usefulness to the Conqueror often lay in acknowledging his limitations. She trusted him because he was willing to do that. He hadn’t wanted to ride with her army. He had advised the Conqueror that his place was in Corinth, governing for her while she fought, but Xena had insisted he join them. Darphus’ attitude gave him an inkling of why. He was concerned by the Commander’s advice.

"Conqueror," he interrupted hesitantly. "A systematic search of the kind Commander Daphus suggests could take years."

"You have a better idea, Daunus?" Xena’s tone was interested, not threatening.

"Well, whoever took the child must have had a destination in mind."

"Obviously, but we don’t know where that is." Darphus interjected with some contempt.

Daunus ignored the Commander, addressing his words directly to Xena. "With respect, Conqueror, there is one place known to be safe from you."

She whirled, her beautiful face twisted into a snarl. "Are you questioning me?"

Daunus couldn’t help taking a step back. "No, Conqueror. Merely suggesting a course of action."

"He’s right," Darphus said flatly. Xena raised her eyebrows. It was rare for her advisors to agree. "We’ve let the centaurs go their own way for too long. Their enclave is a haven for traitors and rebels."

Xena turned on him, eyes flashing fire. "The centaurs do not harbour traitors." Then she drew back, considering. "No, Darphus, your original suggestion makes sense. Get the men ready. We move out in the morning."

Darphus bowed low. "Yes, Conqueror."

Both men moved toward the tent flap. Xena stopped Daunus with a hand on his arm and a quick gesture. He allowed Darphus to leave ahead of him and turned back to the Conqueror.

In the absence of her Commander, Xena relaxed visibly: she leaned back into her throne-like chair, running both hands through her hair. "He’s right, isn’t he?" she sighed.

"About the centaurs?" Daunus questioned. "I think he is."

Xena swore viciously. "Daunus, I can’t attack Kaleipus."

Her advisor nodded. "I know," he answered sagely.

"I gave Kaleipus my oath I would never return. Daunus…you’re the only man I can trust with this."

"You think that sending me won’t compromise your agreement?"

"You are my advisor, not my Commander, Daunus. If you go there with a small force, and the authority to act in my name, Kaleipus might be…reasonable."

_And if he isn’t…?_ Daunus thought, but couldn’t say it. "Conqueror…" he began.

She rose from her throne and crossed the space between them. Very quietly, Xena said, "I can’t order you to do this. I’m asking you. As a friend."

***

The glittering fountain stood between two marble pillars. Here, Hera waited, her customary black garb a stark contrast with the dazzling whites and blues of the garden. She did not have to wait long.

The dove flew between the pillars, circled the fountain once and settled on the rim, some distance from the waiting goddess. The white wings opened and stretched…then elongated into arms. The air shimmered as the dove transformed into the figure of a woman, clad in gold with thick, black hair tumbling down her back. She took a deep breath of the fresh, pure air and turned to face Hera.

"Where have you been, Nemesis?" Hera asked her. The question seemed to be polite interest, nothing more. "I’ve been waiting here some time."

"My apology, Hera. I’ve been trying to avoid Ares."

"Why? What’s wrong?"

"You mean beside Olympus being turned upside down? Ares won’t leave me alone." Nemesis shuddered. "Ugh. I despise him."

Hera smiled thinly. "I will admit it’s not the way I would have preferred, but Olympus has needed change for some time." The look she directed at Nemesis was partly poison, partly false concern. Nemesis didn’t see it. "But you, my dear…I’m so sorry to hear you’re having trouble with my son."

"I’ll handle it. I just wish I had a job to do. Something that would take me off Olympus."

"Perhaps I can help you there." Hera’s eyes flashed with triumph.

The story she told Nemesis was nothing out of the ordinary: simply a tale of a worshipper betraying the goddess. Hera was known as quick to take revenge; Nemesis would be unlikely to realise there was more going on here. She used the waters of the fountain to show Nemesis a picture of the two mortals: Iolaus and Gabrielle.

"It looks easy enough," Nemesis commented. "But it’s not quite my job, Hera. Why send me?"

"So you can leave Olympus, my dear. If you’d rather I send someone else, I have other resources…"

Nemesis shook her dark head quickly. "No. I was just curious. She stood, prepared to take bird-form and fly again. "Consider it done, Hera."

Hera, more than satisfied, watched Nemesis go.


	8. Crossover

#### Another World…

It took Hephaestus six days.

Hercules spent those days in an agony of impatience, unable to do anything but wait. It wasn’t easy for him. Hercules could have found something to do to pass the time: there were friends he could have visited, and there were always people out there who needed help, but all he could think of was Iolaus. Iolaus was in danger. Iolaus had been taken from him by Hera. Hercules had come too close to losing his friend forever…he couldn’t lose him again.

On the second day, Aphrodite turned up. When Hephaestus refused to be distracted from his work, even by her considerable charms, the goddess chose to hang around Hercules instead. Her pestering was driving him crazy. Pestering…? No, that wasn’t right. She was trying to help, to keep his mind off his problems.

Eventually, she even succeeded. Aphrodite dragged Hercules on a tour of Hephaestus’ mountain. He couldn’t help being fascinated by Hephaestus’ inventions, and Aphrodite’s commentary, while a little hard to follow at times — she skipped from subject to subject like a child — was surprisingly informative. She might behave like an empty–headed beauty queen, but that masked a keen intelligence. Hephaestus clearly trusted her: she revealed a great deal about his work that she could only know if he had told her.

Hephaestus was a brilliant inventor: he was continually finding new ways to circumvent the powers of the gods…it was quite scary to consider the damage he could do if he ever chose to _use_ anything he made. But he was more than an inventor: he was a master craftsman. Everything he made was beautiful as well as functional: the god refused to sacrifice one to the other. That throne, for example…

Aphrodite was only too pleased to tell him about her early romance with "Hephie". She remembered some of the details rather differently from Iolaus’ version of the tale.

Iolaus…

"What’s taking him so _long_?" Hercules demanded, irritably.

Aphrodite rolled her eyes at him. "Chill _out_. Look, Herc, Heph explained this to me. I don’t really get it, but it’s a delicate job, bro. You’ve just gotta hang ’til it’s done."

Finally, Hephaestus was finished. He had fashioned the stone into a gauntlet of all things.

"At least this way I know you won’t lose it," he had said dryly when Hercules asked. "Put it on your left hand, but don’t worry about it: it’s strong enough to stand the sort of punishment you’ll give it."

"I hope so," Hercules muttered.

"Trust me."

Hercules smiled. "Do I have a choice?"

"Not really. Now…this is the key that will activate it." Hephaestus produced a circle of blackened metal. Within it there were tiny sparkles of green and in the centre of the circle, a raised abstract design that mirrored the pattern of the gauntlet "You can wear it as an amulet or hide it away. The two halves fit together." Hephaestus demonstrated, placing the amulet against the gauntlet until they almost touched.

"Sounds simple enough," Hercules commented.

"It’s supposed to be. Hercules, this will only work once. When you find Iolaus, you’ll have to be touching him to bring him through with you."

"Understood." Hercules accepted the amulet and put it away in the pouch at his belt. "Anything else I need to know?"

"I used fragments of the Chronos stone to make this thing. So it’ll bring you back to the same time and place that you left. However long you stay in that world."

Hercules nodded. That could be useful. He would be able to take his time finding Iolaus. "Let’s go."

Aphrodite nudged her husband. "Heph," she prompted.

"One final thing…" Hephaestus said.

Hercules waited.

Hephaestus produced a sword, handing it, sheath, belt and all, to Hercules. "_Take_ it," he insisted, as Hercules shook his head. You don’t know what you’re getting into."

Hercules, saying nothing, accepted the sword and bucked it around his waist. He drew the sword out of the sheath, lifting it before his eyes so the highly polished blade glittered in the firelight of the forge. "Nice work," he commented, adding sincerely, "Thank you. Thank you both."

***

If Hercules had thought crossing between the worlds would be as simple as running through a gateway, he was wrong. It was anything but easy.

It was black and indescribably cold utterly silent and it took so very long. For a heartstopping moment Hercules thought something had gone wrong and he would be stuck in this void for eternity…

Sensation returned in a rush. There was a roaring sound, a strong wind and he was falling. As his sight returned the first thing he saw was the ground rushing toward him. Instinctively, Hercules curled his body into a ball as he landed, rolling and coming up on his knees. The wind was still roaring in his ears and he realised it was not, as he had assumed, part of the crossover, but here, now. Squinting against the wind he looked around himself. There was no shelter nearby. A long way above was a line of trees.

As Hercules watched, the trees above swayed and bent in the wind. One was torn up by its roots and began to roll down the hill, branches tearing up great gouts of earth as it moved. Hercules got out of its way quickly. Then he watched, helpless as the tree continued on its way, gathering speed as it fell toward the village below.

The village had already taken a beating from the wind. Houses collapsed, poorly thatched roofs flew. Hercules could see the villagers, panicked, running in different directions, fighting the wind. They would need help.

The gauntlet on his wrist flashed and he thought of Iolaus. Iolaus, in Hera’s hands. But as much as he wanted to find his friend, Hercules couldn’t walk away from the village below. People could be dying down there. He had to fight the wind every step of the way.

By the time Hercules reached the village, the storm had died a little. The sight that met his eyes as he reached the village was more chilling than the cold. It looked as if some warlord’s army had been through here: the damage to the houses was from fire, made worse — far worse — by the weather. Just outside the village were the bodies of six men and they hadn’t been killed by the storm. They had been displayed on a row of rough pikes before the storm knocked them down. Hercules only glanced that way briefly. Horrible as it was, he had seen such things before. He couldn’t help the dead.

In the village itself, a shabby group of people were gathering in the spaces between the ruined houses. As Hercules approached, one man saw him coming. The man took in the demigod’s appearance, the gauntlets at his wrists, the sword at his side. The man grasped the arm of one of the women as he turned to face Hercules, clearly assuming the demigod was a threat.

"What do you want?" the woman demanded, before Hercules had a chance to speak. "Can’t you see we have nothing left?"

Hercules held out both hands, palms up, in a gesture of peace. "I’m not here to rob you," he protested. "I just want to help."

"We don’t _need_ help."

Hercules looked around pointedly. "It looks to me like you do. But I’ll leave if you insist."

The man who had first seen him coming started to add, "We can’t afford…"

There was a splintering crash followed by a scream. The ridgepole of another house had collapsed. Everyone looked, some began to move toward the falling timbers. Hercules automatically pushed his way through the small crowd. He could see a man inside the house, and a child. Both were trapped. The kid was screaming. It looked like the man had been trying to get his daughter out when the ridgepole broke. It was a simple matter for Hercules to lift the fallen timbers and hold the roof up. Two others went in to pull the man out of the wreckage.

"Where’s the girl?" someone asked.

"I see her," Hercules told them. With a gesture, he directed everyone away from the house. He lowered the beam to the ground, carefully, and climbed in over the rubble. It didn’t take him long to find the girl. She was just frightened, not hurt, hiding beneath a table but unable to get out. Hercules pulled the fallen timbers away and carried the girl from the ruin.

"She’s okay," he assured her father as he set the girl down on the ground. It was clear that the man wasn’t, however. He was lying on the ground where the rescuers had left him, his face almost grey, his leg bent at an odd angle beneath him.

"Isn’t there a healer here?" Hercules asked.

Someone answered, "He’s dead," with a gesture toward the bodies Hercules had seen earlier.

"Then find something I can use for a splint." Hercules instructed. He got to work. There was no way to avoid it: Iolaus would have to wait. These people needed help _now_.

***

They worked for hours. The freak storm seemed to be over by the time they were finished. They had been able to build a shelter for the night: taking the largest of the houses that still had walls and cannibalising what they could from the houses beyond repair. The result was a shelter just large enough for everyone.

Hercules accepted the tankard offered to him; it was remarkable that in a village that had lost almost everything, someone had saved a barrel of ale. He thanked the woman distributing the ale.

She smiled up at him warmly, brushing silver-streaked hair out of her eyes. "We owe _you_ thanks. I don’t know what we would have done without your help."

"I’m just glad I was here."

She shook her head, clearly bemused by his attitude. "No one’s even asked your name, have they? Where are our manners?"

"You’ve had other things to think about. And my name is Hercules." He offered his hand.

She accepted it. "Lydia. The man you saved is my brother."

Hercules was used to his name provoking some reaction. He was surprised to find he actually missed it when she accepted his name as just that: a name.

"Lydia…can you tell me what happened here? Before the storm, I mean."

"The Conqueror _happened._"

"Conqueror?" he questioned, but his memory supplied the answer before he’d finished speaking. _The Conqueror. Xena._

"The Conqueror. There is only one, Hercules. She’s gone crazy. Her army came through here yesterday."

"That’s right," someone else put in. "They were searching for some baby."

"Then that storm hit," a third person said. "Between that and the Conqueror there’s not much left."

"What can we do?" an elderly man asked. "We’ve nothing left to sacrifice and the gods…"

"The gods don’t care," Hercules snapped, unable to stop himself interrupting. What’s happened here is awful, but don’t expect a sacrifice to change anything."

The elderly man rose from his chair and hobbled over to face Hercules. "You speak blasphemy, young man," he accused.

"Maybe," Hercules conceded, his voice softer. He didn’t want to decry anyone’s beliefs, not when these people had begun to trust him. "But," he added, "it’s true, just the same."

***

Yet, the old man’s words stayed with him. At first light, he left the village behind, heading toward Corinth. He had no idea where to begin his search for Iolaus, but he remembered that during his brief visit to this world a year ago, Iolaus had spent a couple of days in Corinth, and had managed to make a friend or two. If Iolaus was able to, he would probably have tried to find his friends.

The idea of marching into one of Hera’s temples and demanding Iolaus back did occur to him. In his own world, he wouldn’t have hesitated. In this world, it seemed unlikely to achieve anything,

Corinth seemed as good a place to begin as any. The journey took Hercules two days: a trip that would normally have taken him only half a day. The weather grew increasingly chaotic as he walked — from rain to bright sunlight to snow. It didn’t take him long to realise that this wasn’t natural. Which brought him back to the old man’s talk of the gods.

This odd weather _did_ have the feel of a god’s work. But which god? And why? Demeter controlled the seasons…no, this wasn’t unseasonable weather, it was uncontrolled. Hera? Hercules had known her to use lightning, floods and famine, but she always had a target. Despite the destruction at the village he had helped, this seemed so generalised. Discord loved chaos, but the weather wasn’t her realm. Had he experienced this sort of thing at sea he would have blamed Poseidon…all of which left Hercules with two possibilities. He wasn’t sure which one worried him more.

And then there was "the Conqueror". The signs of an army’s passing grew more and more evident as he got closer to Corinth. Men and women crucified along the road. Fields trampled and burned. Was this really Xena’s work? Reluctantly, Hercules had to conclude that is was. He knew the dark side of Xena’s soul almost as well as he knew her heroism. That hadn’t always been true. But in the aftermath of the horrible events that had culminated in the death of Xena’s son, Solan, they had met and talked…Hercules had learned, then, how close Xena’s battle against the darkness within her was; how much of her past was still her present. Yes, these things he saw could be Xena’s work. Yet, the thought of fighting her again…

Reaching Corinth, Hercules approached the temple of Zeus. The temple was the same, outwardly, as the one he knew in his own world, but there were differences. The temple was understated, the brass inlay in the door unpolished, the steps unswept. Hercules wasn’t sure that this would work, and if it did work, had no idea what sort of reception he would get, but he had no other place to start.

Inside the temple was clean, but very empty. It didn’t look like many people came here. Hercules wondered about that.

"Zeus!" he called.

Silence.

Hercules was ready to turn away when he saw the cloud of rainbow sparkles that heralded the arrival of Zeus’ messenger.

"Who are you?" Iris demanded, almost before she materialised.

Hercules hesitated. He had never quite trusted Iris: she worked for Hera as well as for Zeus. But he reminded himself that he was unknown in this world, and he had to start somewhere with her. "I’m Hercules," he said, expecting it to mean nothing.

The winged goddess’ response astounded him. "_You’re Hercules_? By the Styx! We’ve been searching for you for thirty years, and _now_ you show up!"

Hercules was very confused by this. "Uh…Iris, help me out, here. Why would you be searching for me? And who is ‘we’?"

Iris sat herself comfortably on Zeus’ altar. Leaning forward to look at him, she said, "‘We’ is me and Zeus. And that’s the only answer you get until you answer a few of my questions."

Reluctantly (he wanted to shout and demand to know where Iolaus was) Hercules said, "That sounds fair. But I don’t have a lot of time."

"What do you want with Zeus?"

"His help. I hoped. To be honest, I didn’t really expect him to show up but this seemed a good place to start."

"What makes you think Zeus would have time for you?"

"I didn’t. Come on, Iris. What do you really want to ask me?"

"Have you ever heard the name ‘Alcmene’?"

Hercules hesitated. Would she believe the truth? Could this be why she claimed to have been looking for him? He took a deep breath. "This might be a little hard to believe. Alcmene is my mother.

"Impossible," Iris said instantly.

"It’s true." Hercules did his best to explain. Dahok and Hope and Callisto. Iolaus sent back in time by Ares. Callisto succeeding in killing Alcmene, wiping out his existence in this world. Iolaus’ desperate attempt to set the timeline right. "Iris I know you have the power to tell truth from lies. Am I lying to you?"

She shook her head. "But," she added stubbornly, "that only proves that _you_ believe your story."

"I’m not insane, Iris. Can’t you _try_ to trust me?"

"With what’s going on at Olympus just now, I can’t trust anyone."

It was then that Hercules realised what had been wrong with this whole conversation. Iris was afraid. Very afraid. What could make a goddess feel fear? Half a dozen possibilities came to mind, all of them unpleasant.

"Iris," he began, more kindly, "what is it? What has happened?"

"If you’re really a son of Zeus," she snapped, "you should know."

"I only got here yesterday!" he retorted impatiently. Then he realised, he _did_ know…or at least, suspected. "The weather…has something happened to Zeus?"

Iris nodded slowly. "Ares and Hephaestus have imprisoned him. Ares thinks Zeus took his son — "

"Woah! You’re going a bit fast. Ares and _Hephaestus_?"

Iris nodded again. "Yes. I think they’ve been planning this for some time. Ares’ son — the Conqueror’s son — is missing. Ares believes Zeus was responsible, so he…"

As Iris told the story, everything fell into place. When Ares lost his sword, mortals lost the ability to control their anger. When Hades lost his helmet, there was chaos in the Underworld. When Aphrodite quit her job, love vanished from the world. Zeus, as well as being King of the Gods, was god of the Sky: in theory co-equal with Poseidon and Hades. His thunderbolts were the flamboyant demonstration of his control over the sky.

Hercules knew, from the brief time he had spent on Olympus and from the death of Strife, the huge power that the gods controlled, and the level of upheaval that could result from the death of a god. As Zeus lost his powers, his control over the sky was fading, and the world was suffering as a result.

"Okay, Ares and Hephaestus captured Zeus. What’s this about Ares’ son?"

"Ares thinks that robbing Zeus of his powers will reveal the child. But he’s _wrong_! Zeus doesn’t know anything about it."

Gently, Hercules said, "But you know, don’t you?"

She stared at him suspiciously.

"Iris, I’ll help you if I can. But you’ve _got_ to trust me. Would it help if I tell you Ares is probably my worst enemy in my world."

She was silent for a long moment. Then her shoulders sagged, the light around her dimming slightly. "Yes, I know. When Ares finds out I know, he’ll — "

"I can guess," Hercules cut her off. He thought for a few minutes. As badly as he wanted to find Iolaus…this was serious. More serious than he had thought. Someone had to do something. "Iris, do you know what Hephaestus has done? Where’s Zeus?"

"Hephaestus made a chair…"

"White marble and gold?" Hercules said quickly.

"Yes."

"That’s convenient. I know how it works." Aphrodite had shown him, one of the many things she had mentioned on his "tour" of Hephaestus’ caverns.

Iris pounced on it. "You can free him?" She sounded hopeful.

Slowly, Hercules shook his head. "I don't think so. Maybe. I know how the throne works, but I was told only a god can operate it. And…Iris, I’ll make a deal with you. You help me, I’ll help you free Zeus."

"What do you want?"

"I came here to find my friend. I think Hera has him. Iolaus: he’s the man who tried to save Alcmene."

Iris turned away from him suddenly. "He was working for Ares. I can’t help you."

"He was working _with_ Ares. Not _for_ him."

"No."

"Iris, I won’t do anything until I know he’s safe.

"He’s _not_ safe! With Hera’s death sentence on him…"

"_What_?" Hercules felt as if the earth had opened up under him. Before he’d even realised he was moving, he had grabbed the goddess by the front of her robe, bringing her down from her perch on Zeus’ altar. With deceptive calm, he said slowly, "Iris. Who or what has Hera sent after Iolaus?" His mind was racing. Iolaus could handle most of Hera’s pets. The hunter had helped him kill a lot of them.

But then Iris said one word. "Nemesis."

_Nemesis_. Hercules’ friend, his former lover, even. In his world she was mortal, her godly powers taken from her when she refused Hera’s order to kill Hercules. In this world…well, of course she had never known him. Nemesis was the executioner of the gods. Utterly relentless. She followed orders and she was very good at what she did.

If Nemesis was after Iolaus, it might already be too late.


	9. Questions and Revelations

#### One Day Later.

"Careful!" Iolaus caught Gabrielle’s arm as she stumbled on the wet ground. It had been a tough few days for her. While she gave every appearance of bearing up well, Iolaus was worried. "Do you want to stop and rest for a while?" he asked her.

Gabrielle was pale, her smile wan. "Yes. Thanks." She walked a few steps from the path and sat down on the grass, not seeming to care about the damp. She sighed. "I thought all this travelling would be over once we reached the centaurs."

So had Iolaus, though privately he hadn’t been surprised by their reception. "Kaliepus was more than generous," he told her.

She gave him a narrow look.

"He wants to protect his people, Gabrielle. You can’t blame him."

She looked away. "You’re right. I _know_ you’re right. It’s just…I want this to be over, Iolaus."

Reaching Ephiny and the others in the sanctuary Kaliepus had offered wouldn’t end it. Gabrielle would be running from Hera until she died. "I know," Iolaus said softly.

She looked up at him again and he could see she knew what he was thinking.

Neither of them saw the white dove passing overhead. Had he seen it, Iolaus would have recognised the danger. The dove slowly circled their position, like a hawk seeking prey, then flew on. The bird fluttered down to land in a copse of bushes, a short distance from the two travellers.

"What happens when we get there?" Gabrielle asked. She shifted the baby in her arms.

Iolaus watched her with the baby. "Well, the first thing we have to do is find a wet-nurse." He intended to ask Kaliepus for help with that: there were plenty of women in their village. There must be someone who could help. "Other than that…Gabrielle, isn’t it up to you? Kaliepus said Ephiny and the others got here. Last I heard, _you_ were their leader, not me."

Gabrielle shook her head. "I don’t know if I can any more."

He sat down beside her. "Gabrielle…" He reached for her hand. "You took a big step the other night. And I’m not talking about me." She managed a quick grin and he smiled back with some relief. "You need your friends around you. And you need time. But they’re going to expect you to lead them, Gabrielle. Whether you want to or not."

The watching goddess felt a moment of regret for what she had to do. Hera hadn’t mentioned the baby. A baby she was about to orphan.

Nemesis drew an arrow from the gold-lined quiver at her side.

"Ready?" Iolaus, standing now, offered her his hand.

"I guess." Gabrielle reached up to grasp his wrist. Iolaus pulled her to her feet and they began to walk again, down the slope that would lead them to their destination.

Nemesis nocked the arrow to her bowstring. She took aim.

"Gabrielle, wait." Iolaus stopped, perfectly still. Inexplicably wary, he looked around them.

"What is it?"

"I’m not sure. Maybe nothing. Be quiet, Gabrielle." He knew there was something there…something…he couldn’t see…

The arrow leaving Nemesis’ bow made no sound. It flew, straight and true.

Without consciously knowing why, Iolaus began to turn. "Gab — "

There was a flash of light.

Iolaus heard, "Iolaus, get _down_!"

Instinctively obeying that voice, Iolaus gathered Gabrielle into his arms, baby and all, and threw them all to the ground.

A hand closed about the arrow, snatching it from the air, mid-flight.

Gabrielle taken by surprise, screamed as they fell. They rolled, tangled together, down the slope.

Their fall ended, and Iolaus held her close for a moment before he scrambled to his feet. He looked up the slope, hardly able to believe his eyes.

Hercules.

It was impossible, but he didn’t question. That could wait. "Gods, Herc, I’ve never been so glad to see _anyone_," he said as Hercules reached them.

"It’s not over yet, Iolaus." Hercules glanced over his shoulder.

Iolaus followed his look. He saw nothing. "Nemesis?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"She’s not going to give up, is she?" Iolaus swallowed.

"Like I said," Hercules answered grimly, "it’s not over yet. For now can we just find some place where we’re not sitting ducks?"

"We were headed to the Ixion Caves."

"Let’s go."

***

"You did _what_?"

It was a milder reaction than Iolaus had expected. "Herc, we didn’t exactly have time to think things over…"

"Well, maybe you should have taken the time. Iolaus, what were you _thinking_?"

"I was thinking," Iolaus said, more forcefully than he had intended, "‘I can’t let Gabrielle die if there’s anything I can do to stop it.’"

Hercules looked at him for a long, silent moment. Then he looked at Gabrielle, who sat between Ephiny and Rosoin, watching him nervously. He shook his head. "Iolaus, I’m sorry. Of course you couldn’t. But do you have any idea what’s been happening in this world?"

Iolaus exchanged a glance with Gabrielle. "We’ve kind of been out of touch, Herc. Trying to get here. What’s happened?"

Hercules told him. Told him about the village he had tried to help: ravaged by the Conqueror’s army then by the unnatural storm. Told him about the roads to Corinth lined with crosses. Told Iolaus and Gabrielle what the loss of the Conqueror’s son had led to.

"Gabrielle…" Iolaus began.

Her face had gone pale as she listened to the demigod’s words.

Hercules knew he had said too much. He was angry, though. The suffering and pointless slaughter he had seen was there every time he closed his eyes and yes, he was angry. But Gabrielle wasn’t to blame. "I…I don’t want you to think I’m blaming you. I know what Xena is. But…"

"But it _is_ my fault," Gabrielle interrupted. "Don’t blame Iolaus: he did everything he could to stop me."

"Blame doesn’t matter," Iolaus told her. "What matters is dealing with it."

"So let’s deal with it." That was Ephiny, the Amazon’s expression grim. "I am _sick_ of being safe. We’ve been talking and talking for months. Let’s do something about her."

"I agree." All heads turned to look. Lena had been listening to the conversation. She was sitting on the floor of the cave, a shawl draped around her shoulders. "It’s time we moved against the Conqueror. We agreed a year ago that the time for talking was past."

"Good," Ephiny said, as if it was all decided.

Hercules remembered meeting her, on a dock with her centaur son, an Amazon Queen dedicated to peace. Now listen to her. "Be careful what you wish for, Ephiny," he told her.

"I don’t see _you_ doing anything to help us!" she flared.

"Get some perspective, Amazon. Like it or not, you can’t just take out Xena like some two-dinar warlord. I’m not even sure you should. She’s a force for order in this world and you might be grateful for that yet if the gods go to war."

"Grateful?!! You _want_ her kind of order?" Ephiny turned to Gabrielle. "What makes you think we can trust him?"

Hercules hadn’t finished. "Ephiny, listen. I know you don’t give a damn about the gods. Try looking at it this way. Xena is what she is because of Ares. Ares is trying to take over Olympus. If he wins, she’ll be unstoppable. More than that — have you noticed what’s been happening with the weather lately? It’s because Ares has chained Zeus. And it’s going to get worse. If I can’t free Zeus, there won’t be a world left to fight for. Who’ll care about Xena then?"

***

"What about Nemesis?" Hercules asked.

Iolaus swallowed, hard. He’d been trying not to think about that.

Iris seemed hesitant. "Nemesis will give Iolaus and Gabrielle a three-day reprieve."

"And _then_ she’ll kill us?" Iolaus said. "What’s the good of that?"

The three of them were just outside the caves. Iris had turned up at first light, clearly expecting Hercules to go with her. Iolaus had followed, determined to find out what was going on. Hercules hadn’t told him anything about Iris.

Iris obviously heard him, because she answered his question, but it was Hercules she was talking to. "It was the best I could do. If we can free Zeus, you can ask him to revoke Hera’s death sentence. Nemesis will obey Zeus."

Iolaus didn’t like being treated as if he was invisible.

Hercules frowned. "You didn’t have to do that, Iris. I keep my promises." He glanced quickly at Iolaus.

The hunter was frowning, too. What promise? What was going on that Hercules hadn’t told him?

"Hercules," Iris asked, clearly irritated, "do you _know _Nemesis?"

Yeah, intimately, thought Iolaus.

The demigod nodded. "Very well, in my world."

"Then you should know better than to accuse me of setting this up. I won’t claim to be unhappy I’ve got some insurance. But it really was the best deal I could get out of her."

"Okay, I’m sorry," said Hercules. Iolaus, listening, wasn’t sure he meant it. "Three days should be enough, anyway," Hercules added, and Iolaus _knew_he wasn’t convinced of that.

_Oh, boy, he’s really going to do this._ "Herc…how many gods do you plan to tick off in this world?"

Hercules almost laughed. "Just the Greek ones…I hope."

"Herc, I know nothing I say is going to stop you. But think about it, will you? You’ve got no protection in this world and Ares — "

Hercules interrupted. "Ares doesn’t know me. And he doesn’t know how well _I_ know _him_. I know how he fight, Iolaus. It’ll even out."

"Yeah, I guess so," Iolaus agreed, uneasily. "I wish I was going with you, though."

"We’ve been through this, Iolaus. I _have_ to do this. And you wanted to stay with Gabrielle."

Iolaus shrugged. "I still do. This bothers me, that’s all."

"Are you two finished?" Iris demanded. "Time’s wasting."

Hercules took her hand.

"Herc," Iolaus said quickly, "don’t get killed."

Hercules grinned at him. "You, too."

Gabrielle found him there, alone, a few moments later. She walked up behind him, reaching out to slip her arm around his waist. "If he’s half the man you’ve told me about, Iolaus, he’ll be back."

Iolaus hugged her close to him. "Yeah," he said, unconvinced. He forced a smile, trying to shrug off his mood. "It’s just that I haven’t felt this bad about something since he married…" Iolaus felt his heart miss several beats. "Oh, gods! I _knew_ I was missing something!"

Serena. Ares’ weapon against the gods.

***

Somehow, Hercules hadn’t expected Hephaestus’ mountain to look the same as the one he had just left. It was identical, and that disturbed him. That the same god who in his world had helped him, was here allied with Ares. Walking into the caves with Iris at his side, Hercules found a great deal that looked familiar. The same weapons lining the walls of the first chamber. The same suits of armour…Ares’ toys.

It couldn’t possibly be this easy. So far there was no sign the Hephaestus was even present.

"Isn’t he around?" Hercules asked Iris.

"I can’t sense his presence. But it’s Hephaestus we’re talking about." And he could mask his presence easily, Hercules knew. "Do you know where we’re going?" Iris asked him.

"To find that throne. Haven’t you been here before?"

"Not for centuries. Hephaestus doesn’t exactly welcome visitors."

"Great." He led her further into the cave. It was very nearly a maze. He had a rough idea where he was going, however. Six days waiting for Hephaestus with Aphrodite playing tour-guide was actually paying off. He led the way into the main forge and stopped.

The heat in here was intense. Works in progress were everywhere.

Hercules knew Hephaestus was there before he heard the voice: "Looking for someone, Iris?"

Iris and Hercules turned in unison to face the god. Hercules read contempt in Hephaestus’ eyes as they looked at each other.

"Who’s your tame puppy?" Hephaestus asked Iris.

Hercules bristled.

Iris shot an amused look at him and spoke first. "It must be obvious what we want, Hephaestus."

"Aren’t your loyalties a little divided, Iris? I hear Hera’s throwing a party up on Olympus."

"You heard _wrong_. What are you doing, Heph? You _can’t_want Ares as king of the gods!"

Hercules could see that she’d said the wrong thing. It was too late to stop her.

"You don’t know anything about me, Iris. You’ve never bothered to find out." Hephaestus turned away from them both.

"Hephaestus," Hercules called after him. This wasn’t going to work, but there was no way to change the tone now. "Where’s Zeus?" he demanded.

"Forget it."

Hercules strode across the cave to confront the god. His sword was in his hands. "Don’t make me fight you over this."

Hephaestus laughed shortly. "What makes you think you _can_?" Then he saw the sword Hercules held. "What are you doing with that?"

It took Hercules a moment to realise what he meant. Then he forced a grin. "The sword? _You_ gave it to me. About three days ago."

"I think I’d remember."

"It’s true," Iris insisted, placing herself at Hercules’ side once again. "He came from another world. Hephaestus…"

The god shook his head. "Put the sword away. I’m not going to fight you, whoever you are. Iris, what is going on?"

"I’d like to ask _you_ that." Hercules put in. He wasn’t going to be ignored here. "Why are you working for Ares? Don’t you know what he’ll bring the world?"

"Am I supposed to care?" Hephaestus asked him.

Why that of all things should make the final piece fall into place Hercules did not know. All he knew was suddenly, it was a year earlier and he was walking away from one of Ares’ temples…

_"That’s the end of Callisto, right?" Iolaus had asked him optimistically._

_Hercules nodded agreement, but he couldn’t share his friend’s optimism. Not this time. "Hopefully," he said cautiously, "but that’s the least of my worries. The evil that was behind all this is still out there." He was searching the horizon, as if the evil he spoke of would be there, somehow, just because he was looking. "It’ll have to be dealt with."_

_"Yeah, but you’re here to do that, right?" Iolaus insisted. "I mean, the two of us together…"_

Oh, gods, that was horribly ironic. But Hercules ruthlessly suppressed the dread he still felt at those memories. It did make him pause. Made him wonder if there was more going on here than he had realised. _Oh, gods, no. I can’t go through that again._

"Tell me one thing, Hephaestus. Was this — " he spread his hands, encompassing everything within the gesture " — all this the plan?"

"No."

"Then _help_ us."

The god shook his head again. "Do you really think Ares would make it that simple?" He began to turn away, changed his mind, and vanished.

Hercules groaned. "I _hate_ that."

He had a feeling this wasn’t going to be simple at all.


	10. The Waterfall

Iris stared at the empty space where Hephaestus had been standing. "It’s not here," she said quietly.

"No, it can’t be." Hercules shook his head. That three-day deadline was jabbing at him. "Iris, we have to find out where, and quickly."

"Well, I can do that, but — "

"That easily?"

"Trust me, Hercules. This is what I do."

"Iris. Before you vanish on me, there’s one other thing. I think we should go back for Iolaus."

She gave him a sceptical look. "What good is your mortal friend going to be?"

Hercules smiled wryly. "He’s no ordinary mortal. We might need him. _Trust me._"

***

They materialised in what looked like a valley. There was grass beneath their feet and blue sky above them. Ahead of them was a sheer cliff face, and a waterfall emerging from the rock, forming a deep bowl and a river below.

Iolaus looked around uneasily. "This place isn’t real." There were no sounds: there should be birdsong, the rustlings of the wind… He heard nothing. Nothing except that waterfall.

Hercules nodded acknowledgement of Iolaus’ comment. "Is this the right place?" he asked Iris.

"Behind the waterfall," she said. Iris was already moving. Her gossamer wings spread, she flew straight for the water.

"That’s amazing," Iolaus said, his eyes following Iris’ flight.

"Well, she _is_ a goddess…" Hercules began. He stopped as Iolaus broke into a run, following Iris as she flew.

Iolaus was almost directly below Iris when she reached the waterfall and recoiled. "Something’s wrong!" he shouted over his shoulder. Iris fell back into the hunter’s arms. Instinctively, he caught her, dragging her out of the water onto dry land. "Iris, what’s wrong?"

For a few moments it seemed she hadn’t heard. Iris lifted her hands, then, and both men saw what had happened. The goddess’ hands were red and blistered, as if the water had somehow burned her.

But she was a goddess. What could do _that_ to a goddess? Iolaus wondered.

"It’s nothing. I’m fine," she insisted.

Hercules shook his head slowly. "No, you’re not. It must have been the water."

"The water?" Iolaus repeated. Cautiously, he dipped a finger into the water. When that seemed to cause no damage, he scooped up a handful from the river beside them. "Herc, it’s not water. Too thick, even if it looks like it." He made a face, letting the liquid drip through his fingers. "Ares has a sick imagination."

Hercules, frowning, reached out and caught some of the liquid as it fell from his friend’s hand. He wiped it off his skin quickly. "That’s what I was afraid of," he muttered.

"Huh? What?"

"The water. Or whatever it is. It’s a barrier the gods can’t cross. And Zeus is on the other side of it."

Iolaus looked up at the waterfall. It was a steady curtain of water with no gap between it and the rock. If it _was_ rock. "The gods…from the look on your face, I guess that includes you?"

Wordlessly, Hercules showed Iolaus his hand. Where the liquid had touched him the skin was slightly reddened, as if scalded.

Iolaus shrugged. "That’s okay. I’ll do it."

Hercules shook his head. "I wish it was that easy, Iolaus. You can’t operate Hephaestus’ throne. I’m not even certain _I_ can."

"…And even if I could, how would we get Zeus out of there?" Iolaus finished the sentence for him and Hercules nodded.

"You knew," Iris said to Hercules suddenly. She was sitting up, now, cradling her burned hands. With the rapid healing power of the gods, it seemed the burns were painful but would not last long.

"I know Ares," Hercules agreed. "He does make mistakes, but when he’s planned something well, he usually has everything covered. Ares must have expected someone would try to free Zeus."

"Hephaestus was right," Iris decided. "This is impossible."

Hercules looked up, looking at Iolaus. Iolaus, who would die in two days if they couldn’t persuade Zeus to give Nemesis new orders. He shook his head firmly. "Not impossible. Just harder." He thought about it for a moment. If Iris could just materialise in there, she would have. So that was obviously out. Iolaus could go in, but he couldn’t operate the chair. If it had been a natural waterfall Hercules would have considered trying to dam it; but the water was pouring directly from the rock above: there was nothing to dam.

There was only one other option. "I have to go in there myself."

"Hercules, you can’t…" Iris began.

Iolaus had said nothing, knowing that to protest when Hercules had his mind made up was pointless.

"I’m _half_ god, Iris. I can do it. It’s not as if we have a choice, here." He met Iolaus’ eyes silently. Their wordless communication, developed in years and years of friendship, said everything else that needed to be said.

With some trepidation, Hercules approached the waterfall. He took a careful look at the water. Iolaus’ instinct had been right: whatever it was, it wasn’t really water. There was no spray for a start, and the liquid seemed thicker, just enough to be noticeable. It was a uniform curtain with no gap between it and the rock. The only way was through.

"Stay alert, buddy," Hercules said.

"Right back at you," Iolaus returned with a forced grin.

Hercules nodded. He took a deep breath and held it, then moved quickly through the curtain of liquid. It wasn’t deep; for that he was grateful. Hercules felt a shock of pain as the "water" engulfed him. It felt like boiling oil on his exposed flesh. He had expected pain and it didn’t stop him, but _Tartarus!_ that hurt. It was only his momentum carried him through. As he entered the rippling dimness of the cave, he fell to his knees, momentarily weakened by the pain, gasping for breath. For a moment he stayed where he was. Ran a hand through his hair and shook his head to clear the liquid out of it. Then he stripped off his shirt: it was saturated with the water.

Leaving his leather shirt where it fell, Hercules looked up. The cave wasn’t large, and the throne stood a short distance away, facing away from him. He got to his feet and waked around it.

"Who are you?"

Zeus’ voice, so familiar to Hercules, sounded exactly the same as he always had. Despite all logic, he had expected this Zeus to be…well, different, somehow. His father. They had had their differences over the years. Since Alcmene died, their relationship had improved a great deal, but Hercules knew that he and Zeus would never see eye to eye. Their infrequent meetings were too-often full of old resentments, old arguments.

This Zeus didn’t know him. Hercules had to remind himself of that as he moved into the trapped god’s line of sight. _Who are you?_ Zeus had asked. Hercules wondered how he’d react if he answered _Your son._

"Someone who wants to help you," Hercules told him. "Ares will figure out I’m here soon. I’d like to be gone by then."

He was running his hands over the mechanism, silently blessing Aphrodite for showing this to him. He found the tiny catch…but nothing moved. "Only a god can operate it," he muttered to himself.

Zeus shifted within the throne’s circle. "Not that I don’t appreciate the help, but — "

Hercules cut him off. "I haven’t given up yet." He placed his hands firmly on either side of the mechanism. Gripping hard, he began to pull the bar apart. Forged by Hephaestus, the task was a challenge even for Hercules’ strength, drained by his passage through the waterfall. He had to pause for a moment.

This was impossible.

_No._ It couldn’t be impossible. There was too much at stake.

Redoubling his efforts, Hercules began again. His powerful muscles strained as he pulled, putting all of his Olympian power into the effort. He could feel the bar weakening beneath his hands. A light sheen of sweat broke out on his skin and he heard his own voice crying out with the effort as, finally, the mechanism came apart and the bars holding Zeus imprisoned broke.

There was a flash of light and sparks. Hercules was thrown backward. Turning his fall into a quick tuck-and-roll, he sprang to his feet facing the now-broken throne. _I don’t want to do _that _too often._ He offered an aching hand to the god. "Coming?"

"Who are you?" Zeus asked again. He refused Hercules’ hand and stood up from the throne by himself.

Hercules couldn’t blame the old man for not trusting him. His captivity had clearly weakened the god. How much, he couldn’t yet tell. "I’m Hercules," he said. "Son of Alcmene of Corinth. Yes, I know," he added quickly. "It’s impossible. Now will you save the questions until I can figure a way out of here?" As he turned away to face the liquid curtain again he caught the briefest flicker of amusement on the god’s face. _I guess no one talks to the King of the Gods like that in this world._

Another look at the waterfall told him only what he already knew. There were no gaps. Hercules could get out of here. Zeus couldn’t. It would do Iolaus no good at all if he couldn’t rescue them both. Just touching the waterfall had badly burned Iris. Hercules had been hurt coming through it and, while he wasn’t paying much attention to it, he could still feel some pain as the water dried on his skin. A sudden vision came to mind, of what this stuff could do to Zeus in his weakened state… No, that definitely wasn’t an attractive route.

He moved to the rock wall, placing his hand flat against the rock experimentally. It was like limestone or something: saturated with that liquid. He pulled his hand away quickly. But limestone wasn’t all that dense. Perhaps…

From outside, he heard Iolaus call to him. Just his name, nothing else.

"Iolaus," he called back, "I’m okay."

He drew back his fist and began to punch the rock wall, a short distance from the waterfall. One blow, and he felt the minute flaws within the rock begin to shudder. He allowed himself a grim smile. Ares had missed something. A second blow, and part of the rock came away. A third, a fourth, and he knew this was going to work. Eventually, he had cleared a passage from the cave: a gap just large enough between the water and the wall.

He looked back at Zeus. The old god was leaning against the throne for support. Was he _that_weak?

"Zeus, come on. We have to get out of here."

Hercules offered his hand again, and this time Zeus accepted his aid. They moved into the gap together. Stepping over the uneven ground, Zeus stumbled. As Hercules helped him regain his balance the water splashed the god and he cried out.

Iolaus was waiting impatiently. He didn’t know what to think about all this. It was too strange for him. When he heard Zeus’ cry he ran to the gap Hercules had created.

"Herc! You okay?" He saw with some relief Hercules emerging from the cave.

"Yeah…I think."

"Where’s Zeus?"

"Still inside. He’s pretty weak…"

"I’ll take care of it." Iolaus, a mortal man, walked straight into the cave with no difficulty. He saw the god slumped on the ground. That this was the King of the Gods never crossed his mind. He was simply someone who needed help. Iolaus pulled the old man to his feet and supported him as they walked back toward the exit. He kept his own body on the outside, protecting Zeus from the waterfall. In this way, they came slowly out of the cave, out of Ares’ trap.

***

"I’ll take care of Nemesis for you," Zeus promised, almost before Hercules had finished explaining. "Hera had no business using Nemesis for personal vengeance."

"Nemesis knows that," Iris said pouring wine.

They had taken refuge temporarily in one of Zeus’ temples, where Iris had brought them after they escaped the waterfall. With Zeus in a place that would help to augment his power, they were safe for the moment from prying eyes.

"Of course she does," Zeus agreed with Iris. "Or she would have carried out her orders and you…" — a twinkle-eyed glance at the hunter — "would be dead."

Iolaus knew that. He’d been on the wrong end of Nemesis’ orders before. He almost said so, but that would have lead to too many questions. "So, everything will be back to normal on Olympus, right?" he asked hopefully.

Hercules shook his head silently. He was just beginning to realise that it wouldn’t be that easy.

"Wrong?" Iolaus said, guessing the answer from the silence.

"Very wrong," Zeus confirmed. "Look at me — I can barely raise a glass. I can’t fight Ares as I am." His hand was shaking as he raised the wine to his lips.

"Won’t the other gods support you?" Hercules asked him. He was thinking back to Hera’s coup on Olympus in his own world. The gods he would have expected to oppose Hera: Aphrodite and Cupid, Hades, Hestia, had done nothing to prevent or change what Hera had done. But Hera had taken them all by surprise and Hercules had dealt with it quickly once he discovered her plot. The other gods, being immortal, are not accustomed to acting so immediately — one reason he had been able to defeat Hera. But Ares’ take-over had obviously been coming for some time. Surely Iris wasn’t the only one of the gods not afraid to act.

"I’m afraid they won’t," Zeus told him grimly.

Iris added, "It’s not fear. Or wanting Ares as King. I don’t think even Hephaestus wanted that. The problem is the balance of power."

"The balance?" repeated Iolaus, frustrated that he couldn’t follow this conversation. _Uh…hello! Mere mortal here with not a clue what you’re going on about!_

But Hercules was nodding his understanding. "Olympus reflects the mortal world," he explained to Iolaus.

"Or the other way around," Zeus corrected.

Hercules allowed a cynical smile to cross his features. "Whichever. The point is, Iolaus, Ares can’t be ousted while one of his worshippers sits in the Conqueror’s throne. And…" he glanced at Iolaus, "I’m afraid there’s something else we should consider."

Iolaus saw his friend’s worried look but, his mind still on Ares and Xena, failed to guess its meaning. "What’s up?"

Hercules didn’t want to be the one to say it. He had hoped Iolaus would remember… Addressing his words to Zeus, he said, "This might be nothing, but I think you need to hear it. From my point of view, this world was created when Callisto killed my mother. She was trying to wipe out my existence. So I was never there to help Xena when she wanted to change…none of the things I’ve achieved ever happened." He looked again at Iolaus. Then forced himself to continue: "But Callisto didn’t do it alone. She had help…"

Iolaus, remembering just an instant before Hercules said the words, felt the blood drain from his face. "Oh gods. It was Hope. I’d forgotten." He laughed, bitterly. "How could _I_ have forgotten?"

_…The darkened temple of Ares…Callisto, vanquished by the god of war…then the new presence, on the steps above…"Get up, Callisto. Your work’s not done." And the insane goddess rose, renewed by the dark power of Dahok’s daughter…_

Then a flood of more recent memories…

_Gods, no, this isn’t happening._

"Forgotten what, exactly?" Iris asked, a little irritated by the obscure by-play.

"Dahok." Iolaus spat the word out to spare Hercules having to say it.

Hercules added, "Killing Alcmene was the plan of Dahok’s daughter. And in our world, Ares allied himself with Dahok…" As Zeus reacted to this revelation, Hercules paused for breath. Only when it was clear that neither god nor goddess was going to speak did he continue. "I don’t think they’d be allies here. Ares has more to lose and a lot less to gain. But Ares’ power in this world seems…convenient."

_"You’ll get your chance. Why do you think I freed you?"_

_"To make her suffer," Callisto said eagerly._

_"To make her _**stop**._ My father’s kingdom is at hand. The age of darkness when Dahok will snuff out the people Xena loves ’til he’s crushed her very soul. And as she goes, so goes the world."_

_What’s happening to me? How can I remember that?_

"…defeat Ares," Zeus added.

Iolaus shook his head, aware that he’d missed a chunk of the conversation. "We have to fight Xena," he said, suddenly certain of it, even as his courageous heart quailed at the thought.

_As she goes, so goes the world._

Hercules glanced at him, surprised by the force of Iolaus’ statement. Not that the hunter was wrong… "Yes, we do," he agreed grimly.

Iris moved toward the demigod and, taking them all by surprise, kissed him full on the mouth. She didn’t rush the kiss.

Hercules drew away from her gently. "What was that for?"

The goddess was smiling up at him. "You never even considered not trying to help us, did you? That was a thank you. And an apology for not trusting you."

Hercules returned her smile. "You’re welcome."

***

"I asked you not to return," Kaliepus told them.

"I know," Iolaus answered carefully. He glanced around, a little nervous. Kaliepus’ hut should be private, but the wattle walls weren’t that thick. It was essential no one except the three of them hear this conversation. "Kaliepus, the last thing we want is to put your people in danger, but we thought you should be warned."

The centaur took a step back. "Warned about what?"

"The Conqueror," said Hercules.

"She won’t come here," Kaliepus said confidently.

Hercules shook his head. "Kaliepus, I hope you’re right. I know she has…compelling…reasons to keep to your agreement. But this time may be different."

The centaur’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you know about my agreement with the Conqueror?"

Hercules, with a significant glance toward the shuttered window, merely answered, "Everything." He knew he should say more. "I know you have no reason to trust me. But I know the centaurs as a decent and honourable race. I’m willing to trust _you_…because of Solan."

Hercules watched the emotions chase each other across the centaur’s features: hate, fear, suspicion, apprehension. Not trust.

"What do you want?" Kaliepus asked him.

"This isn’t about blackmail," Hercules assured him. "It’s about Xena. Her armies are on the march again and I believe that sooner or later she’ll come here. She’s searching for her son."

Iolaus added, "Not Solan. Her baby."

Kaliepus was quick. "_You_ came here with a baby," he said to Iolaus.

Iolaus answered, "Yes." Nothing more.

The centaur turned his back on them both, moving away. "You’re putting me in an impossible position," he said.

Again, Hercules disagreed. "No. I’m asking you to make a difficult choice. If I’m right, Xena will send someone rather than come herself. If you want to, you can tell what you know."

And have these hills covered with crosses within days. The words hung there, unspoken, yet heard by all three men.

"Or…?" Kaliepus prompted.

"Or you can help me stop this slaughter, once and for all."

The centaur sneered. "Are you a god that you can promise such things?"

"Half god. If it matters." Hercules was used to the word "impossible": it had stopped fazing him years before. "I don’t think it does matter. What counts now is you. You’re isolated here, untouched by the worst of the Conqueror’s rule. But I don’t believe you’ve ignored what’s happening."

For a moment Kaliepus looked angry, a dark frown creasing his forehead. Then the centaur turned back to them. His broad shoulders slumped, for the first time, he looked old. "I felt like a coward," he confessed, "hiding here while the Destroyer of Nations earned her name. I told myself I was doing my best — saving those I could." He turned back to the two men. "Now you’re asking me to decide the fate of the world I failed."

Kaliepus met Hercules’ look, a new determination in his eyes. "What do you want of me?" he asked.


	11. Drawing The Line

The centaur leader was armed to the teeth. He carried a sword in a sheath between his shoulders. A harness at his flanks supported a quiver of long, steel-tipped arrows and he wore a dagger strapped to the inside of one arm. He held a crossbow in one hand and a shield in the other. Behind him, in a half-circle formation, waited seven other centaurs, all similarly armed. The two humans who accompanied Kaliepus, one on each side of him, were entirely unarmed. One of them was Hercules. The other was the centaur’s adopted son, Solan.

This incongruous group faced five men, four of them, dressed in the livery that marked them as the Conqueror’s soldiers, were armed. The fifth, dressed in a simple linen tunic and a thick, full length cloak, was not.

Daunus advanced alone toward the group of centaurs. Kaliepus, flanked by Hercules and Solan, advanced to meet him.

"So," Kaliepus said, his voice pitched to carry, "the Conqueror has sent me her little lap-dog."

The soldiers moved restlessly. Daunus did not react to the insult. Calmly, he said, "Think what you will of me, brother. I come to you as the Conqueror’s ambassador." No one, beyond Hercules, would have heard his words.

"The Conqueror knows we have no dealings with her," Kaliepus insisted.

"You do _now_." Daunus paused, his eyes resting briefly on Hercules, then on the boy. "Damn your pride, Kaliepus! I want to save your horse’s ass and you’re not making it easy."

"So speak."

"It is customary," Daunus told him, "to introduce your companions. It’s also customary to hold diplomatic negotiations in private."

"Yes," Kaliepus agreed. "It is." He waited. He had no intention of making this easy.

Daunus clearly got the message. He hadn’t anticipated doing this in public, but… "You will have heard that the Conqueror gave birth to a son." This time, it was he who made sure his words would be heard. "Her son was kidnapped. We have reason to believe the child was brought here."

Hercules stepped forward. "What reason?" he demanded. "Besides the villain’s belief that there is safety here?" He was almost certain they had no proof. But he had to be sure.

The ambassador smiled, meeting Hercules’ eyes. "Well…none," he admitted. "But I find that compelling."

"If you truly believed that," Hercules told him, "you’d be here with an army and" — he glanced pointedly at Solan — "most of us would be dead."

There was a silence. "Your friend," Daunus’ words were directed to Kaliepus again, "is clever. And correct. I don’t believe you’d be so foolish. But I have to tell you that if you know anything at all, the Conqueror will pay highly for the information. In coin. Or in anything you name."

"And if I tell you to go, brother?" Kaliepus betrayed no interest in Daunus’ offer.

Daunus shrugged. "Then I go. But I have to report to the Conqueror, and given the circumstances, I can’t promise you I won’t be back. Or that _she_won’t."

The centaur nodded grimly. He moved forward, gesturing his two companions back, creating a space where he and Daunus could speak privately.

***

"Ready?" Hercules asked.

Iolaus nodded grimly. He held the bow ready, an arrow already nocked to the bowstring, a full quiver at his side. "Ready," he agreed.

Hercules was looking down the road, his eyes narrow. "Here they come."

Daunus, and his escort. Hercules waited nervously as they approached on horseback. He was concealed by the bushes at the side of the road, but if the soldiers were any good at all, they’d be ready for an attack. He was relying on Iolaus. If this turned ugly, he would need the help. Not because he couldn’t deal with four soldiers on his own, but because it was essential those soldiers leave this place _alive_. Iolaus was the only person he could trust to get that right.

As the small party came close, Hercules walked out into the road, blocking their way. He didn’t threaten them and he said nothing, simply waited.

Daunus signalled his soldiers to a halt and rode forward alone. "We were never introduced," he said to Hercules mildly. He might have been discussing the weather.

Hercules was beginning to have some hope for "the Conqueror". If she kept a man like this at her side… "My name is Hercules," he told him. "Remember it: I have a feeling you’ll be hearing it again."

"Quite a statement."

Hercules nodded. "I could have said this with Kaliepus there. I didn’t because I want it clear that Kaliepus isn’t a part of what I intend to do. He honours his agreement with the Conqueror. I’m not one of his people: I was simply there…visiting a friend."

Daunus inclined his head questioningly. "Yet you stood with Kaliepus as an advisor."

"Because I know the source of his agreement with Xena." Hercules paused, letting that sink in. Daunus knew, too. That much had been clear when he saw Solan with Kaliepus earlier. Hercules wondered about that: that Xena would trust this man not to reveal her secret.

"And what do you want with me?" Daunus asked him.

"I want you to take a message to the Conqueror."

"What would that be?"

"Tell her this senseless slaughter is going to stop. She won’t find her son by killing every mother in Greece. Tell her to return to Corinth, and take Darphus and her armies with her. Or I _will_ stop her myself. And tell Xena that the father of her son knows who I am."

Daunus looked away for a moment as his horse shifted restlessly. When he looked back at the demigod, he asked, "What makes you think I’ll take your message to the Conqueror? You must know how she’ll react to hearing this. I could be afraid she’ll kill the messenger."

"You could be. You’re not. Just give her the message, Daunus." Hercules glanced around at the four listening soldiers. This story will reach her whether you do or not." Unless he had read this man completely wrong, Daunus wasn’t the type to kill the witnesses.

Without any further words, Daunus signalled the soldiers and they continued their journey. Hercules stayed where he was, watching them go. As the group moved out of sight, Iolaus dropped lightly from the trees above.

"That looked like it went well." the hunter commented.

Hercules looked grim. "He’s a good man. I think Xena will get the message." Still looking after the ambassador, Hercules sighed with resignation. "Okay, my friend. Let’s do it. Time to draw a line against the Conqueror."

***

#### Four days later

"You were lucky," Hercules said as he secured the bandage tightly. "If you were human, that arrow would have killed you."

Agrius grunted. "That’s what makes my kind great warriors: it’s not bravery or immortality, just human archers who don’t know where we keep our hearts." The centaur gave a tight grin. It was a good attempt, but no one really felt like laughing.

Hercules nodded agreement. He saw Iolaus sitting to one side. The hunter still hadn’t spoken. Hercules checked the centaur’s bandage one last time, then got up and went over to Iolaus.

"She made her own choice," he told the hunter gently.

He shook his head. "I warned her," he said bitterly. "I _told_ her Darphus wouldn’t be easy to kill."

"You’re not responsible." But even as he said it, Hercules knew Iolaus wouldn’t be convinced. He sighed. It had been a hard-fought battle: six of them against a legion of the Conqueror’s soldiers. It didn’t feel like it, but they were incredibly lucky that Ephiny had been the only one killed. The Amazon had saved them all: taking advantage of Darphus’ moment of distraction to attack. Hercules would never be sure whether it had been impulsive courage or if she had known she would die. She had wounded Darphus; how badly they didn’t know. But in doing so she had died.

A warrior’s death, in battle. That much would have pleased her.

"What am I going to tell Gabrielle?" Iolaus asked, looking up at his friend with eyes full of tears.

***

_Iolaus hadn’t needed to be reminded of the casual cruelty Darphus relished._

_He had seen it all: every stroke of the brief exchange. Ephiny’s blood-drenched sword raised high in triumph when she wounded the Commander left her wide open to the attack he should never have been able to make. _But then_, Iolaus reflected bitterly, _what’s impossible for a man who came back from the dead?_ And, on the heels of that, no longer funny, _**I** should know.

_Darphus’ upstroke had sent the sword flying from the Amazon’s hand. Everything seemed to slow suddenly. Darphus could have killed her easily: a thrust into her heart, or a slice across her throat. He hadn’t done it. The blow had gone low._

_Iolaus remembered screaming Ephiny’s name as she fell, so slowly._

_Darphus, with a cruel laugh, turned his horse away, signalling the retreat as he moved._

_Iolaus, careless of danger, ran to the Ephiny’s side. He could see at a glance there was nothing he could do. Nothing _anyone_ could do._

_"_ **Darphus!!!** _" he screamed in rage, staring after the retreating warriors._

_The bastard had sliced her open like a butchered pig. The terrible wound would kill her: slowly, agonisingly…inevitably. Iolaus knelt beside the dying Amazon. He hesitated to touch her, not sure if she would understand, but shoved his doubts aside. No one wants to die alone. He gathered her body into his arms, tears of grief and rage already stinging his eyes._

_"Iolaus…" The word was barely audible._

_"I’m here," he assured her quickly._

_"Gabrielle…" she whispered._

_"Ssh. Don’t try to talk." Stupid words. Stupid. Nothing could save her. Why shouldn’t she speak?_

_"You…must…tell her…"_

_Iolaus leaned closer, straining to hear the words. "Tell who? Gabrielle?"_

_"Want her to…have…right of caste."_

_Surprised, Iolaus drew back slightly._

_"Promise…"_

_"I know what it means. I’ll tell her. I promise. Lie still, Ephiny. Please, try."_

_But Ephiny wouldn’t obey him. She was struggling to move, to reach the knife she kept at her waist. He realised what she was reaching for and drew it for her, trying to place it in her hand. She closed her hand over his._

_"Please…" she breathed._

_Iolaus didn’t understand._

_"She wants you to end it, Iolaus."_

_It was only when Hercules spoke that Iolaus realised he was there, standing at his shoulder. How long the demigod had been with them, Iolaus did not know._

_Iolaus looked up into his friend’s eyes, dazed, as comprehension dawned. "Herc…I can’t… She’s…"_

_"She’s an Amazon. And she’s dying." Hercules knelt beside them. "Ephiny is asking you to free her from the pain."_

_Ephiny nodded, confirming Hercules’ words._

_Iolaus, the tears beginning to overflow, looked into her eyes. Rationally, he could see what she asked made sense. Her wound couldn’t be healed. She might suffer for hours, even days, but in the end she would die anyway. But how could he…?_

_"Iolaus…" she whispered. Just his name._

_His hand closed around the knife._

***

Hercules shook his head. "She died bravely, just as an Amazon wants to."

"She died," Iolaus snapped, "defending bunch of empty huts. And _I _killed her."

Empty huts? Hercules frowned. That hurt.

Iolaus knew that hadn’t been the point. They had chosen to draw a line, to show some resistance to the Conqueror’s advance. Of course the village had been empty: they had evacuated first. Hercules hadn’t intended to fight a battle he knew he might lose, if there were women and children below who would pay the price for their failure.

He sighed, again. It was never easy to lose a friend. He silently clasped Iolaus’ shoulder, then walked away, giving the hunter his space to mourn.

***

Several hours later, the five of them were sharing a meagre meal around a campfire.

Garin raised the waterbag in a salute. "To victory!" he declared.

Before anyone else could speak, Agrius corrected, "No, my friend. To Freedom."

"Freedom," Iolaus agreed, and the water was passed around.

"It’s a beginning," Hercules said grimly. "The question is, what do we do next? The five of us can’t defeat all of Xena’s army."

"We’d need an army of our own," Iolaus said. He had been thinking of that since the battle. Remembering the wars he had fought, with Hercules and with Jason.

Hercules disagreed. "That kind of war is just what Ares wants."

"Not," Iolaus said firmly, "if we win. I can’t be worse than what’s happening now, can it?"

"Are you serious?" Hercules asked him.

Iolaus looked around at their small band, then back to Hercules. "You tell me."

"It could be done," Agrius put in. Not all the people in Greece are the sheep the Conqueror believes. There are rebels — if you know where to look."

"Like Gabrielle?" Hercules asked. Privately he agreed with Iolaus’ assessment of Gabrielle’s group: all talk and good intentions.

But the centaur said, "I was thinking of Queen Hippolyta."

Hercules choked on his water. "Uh…who?"

"Queen Hippolyta," Agrius repeated.

Lena filled in the details. "When the Conqueror destroyed the Amazon Nation, two tribes were spared. Queen Velasca made an alliance with the Conqueror. According to Ephiny, she took the mask of the queen falsely, and was a traitor to all Amazons. That’s why Ephiny was alone: she and a few others fled that tribe when Velasca took over. The other tribe spared — by Ares’ orders — was Queen Hippolyta’s. Rumour was that the gods made a deal for her: it’s known that her tribe followed Hera, not Artemis. After the Conqueror withdrew, Hippolyta broke with Hera…her people have been in hiding since." Lena glanced at Agrius. "I assumed they were all dead."

"Herc," Iolaus interrupted hesitantly, "aren’t we getting sidetracked here? I mean, who’s the real enemy here? Xena or Ares?"

"As long as Xena serves Ares, there’s not much difference."

"Yeah…but it’s Ares we have to defeat to put Zeus back on Olympus."

"What are you getting at, Iolaus?"

"Well…if it’s the idea of going to war you have a problem with…" — Iolaus sounded unusually nervous — "I _do_ have another option."

"So spit it out."

"You won’t like it," he hedged.

"Iolaus…"

The hunter took a deep breath. "Well, we _could_ take a trip to Cernaia."

Hercules stared at him in silence. He closed his eyes. "Oh, Zeus," he whispered. Then, looking at Iolaus again, "No, my friend. I couldn’t."

Iolaus, knowing no one else would guess what they were talking about, said, "Then we should go home, Herc. Now. Before you get involved in all this. If we stay, you’ll have to face it sometime."

"I wish I _could_ go home. We’re already involved, Iolaus. You know it’s too late to walk away."

Yes, Iolaus had known that. "So…?" he asked.

Hercules made the decision, then. "So…let’s talk about that army."


	12. The Amazon Queen

#### Three months later…

No man in the room even dared to breathe. Every one of them seemed to be trying to fade into the woodwork, or praying to the gods that the Conqueror would not notice _him_. In the centre of the chamber: the Conqueror’s audience chamber in her palace at Corinth, her Commander knelt, his impassive expression doing nothing to conceal his fear. The Conqueror was angry, and angry she was unpredictable.

"Conqueror…" Darphus began.

Xena rounded on him, her eyes flashing. "I don’t want to hear it," she hissed. Her icy whisper reached all corners of the room. "How dare you blame your incompetence on desertions? Desertions!! From _my_ army?"

The Commander’s head bowed; he knew better than to speak again.

"Well?" Xena demanded, her tone dangerous.

"I’m sorry, Conqueror."

Cold steel touched Darphus’ throat so quickly he hadn’t seen her draw the blade. "Don’t apologise, Darphus," Xena said coldly. "Just improve." She was looking down at the kneeling man with contempt. He was fast outliving his usefulness to her. "Get up," she spat. Stepping back to allow him to obey, she surveyed the room, catching the eye of every man there, noting their reactions. "I want his head, Darphus," Xena instructed. "Or I’ll have yours."

_Defeat_ was not a word to which the Conqueror was accustomed. Her army had returned to Corinth. It wasn’t a retreat, oh, most certainly not a retreat. They had merely called a truce to rest their armies. No one wanted a winter campaign.

_Truce_ was also a word Xena didn’t like to use. They had until the winter ended to take back the advantage. To find some way of turning (~~defeat~~) setback into victory.

Watching Darphus’ retreating back as he left the chamber, Xena heard her councillor’s nervous question. Still furious because of the news Darphus had brought, she spun to face the speaker. "We’re discussing _war_ and you’re worried about the festival?" she asked incredulously.

The man stepped back from the Conqueror’s icy stare. When she sheathed the blade in her hand, he relaxed visibly.

Daunus came to the councillor’s defence. "Conqueror, I’d say the question is relevant. The people need to know everything is normal. Especially when it is not."

"Well then," Xena snapped, "there’s your answer. The damned festival goes ahead, just like every solstice. Besides…" The Conqueror shot a dark look at Ares, who had been watching the entire discussion in sardonic silence, "…I wouldn’t want to offend the gods by denying them their festival."

Ares seemed amused by her sarcasm. His laughter rang out, audible only to Xena. Xena ignored him.

She waited to confront Ares until after her generals and advisors had left. "How long until _you_ do something?" she raged at the god. "You’re supposed to be the god of war. How is it this warrior defeats us time and again?"

As she flew at him, Ares grabbed her outstretched hands and pulled her roughly against him. "You’re magnificent when you’re angry, Xena!" As he tried to kiss her she pushed him away, not about to let him distract her. But that hadn’t been what Ares had in mind.

"Xena," he began, more calmly, soothing her temper, "this warrior who leads them… Hercules…he’s no ordinary man. As you know by now. Let’s discuss this, shall we? I _know_ you don’t see this truce as a chance to rest from war."

…Though even Ares was forced to acknowledge it was that, too. The winter was unusually harsh: Ares intended to have words with Demeter about that. If this was her way of opposing him on Olympus she would be sorry. Iris (and Zeus, obviously) were the only ones who had openly opposed him, but many others were uncooperative. Maybe it was time to shake things up a little.

Xena spat at his feet. "Of course not! It’s a chance to turn the tide. I just have to figure out how."

"That’s where I can help you, Xena. I have someone to add to your army. Someone who _will_ turn the tide."

Still irritable, she demanded, "What difference is one more warrior going to make against a growing army?" _Growing with desertions from _her_ side…_The Conqueror felt a surge of fury again.

"Xena, Xena." Ares purred. "One warrior means everything, my dear, you should know that. It just has to be the right warrior." He held out his hand to her. "Come. There’s someone I want you to meet."

***

Lysia pulled her cloak more tightly around her as she emerged from the cover of the trees. Thank the gods the snow hadn’t started until she was well away from Corinth: it would have been impossible to hide her trail through thick snow. As it was, the snowfall had probably done her a favour. She was challenged as she entered the fortifications, but the guard knew her by sight. Once inside, there was no need for caution and the Amazon moved swiftly between the tents. Someone had rigged a shelter for the horses, she noted with approval. She paused to wave as one of her friends emerged from the hospital tent, but had no time for conversation. They would want to hear her news right away.

As she approached the leaders’ tent she could hear raised voices within. Would they _never_ remember that tent walls aren’t made of stone? she wondered. Were they still arguing? Without ceremony, Lysia ducked into the tent, stamping the caked snow off her boots and throwing off her cloak. Yes they were nearly all here. Gabrielle and Rosoin, apparently listening in silence while the two men argued. Hercules and Iolaus both turned to look at her as she walked in, one of them expectant, the other apprehensive.

"The festival is going ahead," Lysia announced. She ran a hand through her wet hair, brushing it away from her face, flushed with cold.

Hercules nodded, relaxing. "Good."

Iolaus was already shaking his head. "Good? Herc, this is _not_ good." He turned away from his friend abruptly and began to pace. "This is crazy," he declared. "This is gonna get you both killed."

The old, familiar argument. "Iolaus, we have to find a way to end this," Hercules repeated patiently. The same words it seemed he had spoken a hundred times before. "If we can’t, we’re looking at years of bloody war. I _will not_serve Ares’ purpose that way." He spoke with finality, his mind made up.

In private, Hercules had admitted to Iolaus that he had doubts. Iolaus’ certainty that his plan was a bad idea worried him: Hercules had learned the hard way to trust his friend’s instincts. On the strength of that alone, had he been able to see any other way, he would have taken it. But he couldn’t, and Iolaus knew that, yet refused to let it go. With characteristic determination, the demigod put his friend’s doubts out of his mind. His plan could only work if he had confidence in it himself.

Gabrielle, silent until that moment, said quietly, "It’s the right thing to do, Iolaus. You know that."

Iolaus looked at her. Reluctantly, he agreed. "I don’t have to like it," he said mulishly.

"But you _do_ have to stop arguing about it," Lysia snapped. There was the crack of command in her voice that always made Iolaus want to do the exact opposite of what she said. "People can hear you from outside," the Amazon added. "It’s time we presented a united front."

"She’s right, Iolaus," Gabrielle told him. "Save the arguments for in private."

The change in Gabrielle was amazing. She might not have been born an Amazon but she had taken to their ways quickly. Iolaus had known she would, remembering the Amazon bard he knew as Xena’s closest friend. Even so, this change…

***

It had begun when Hercules had led them in search of Queen Hippolyta, shortly after the battle with Darphus’ troops when Ephiny was killed. It had seemed that the demigod had known exactly where to look. The journey hadn’t been easy for Gabrielle; had it not been for Ephiny’s last request Iolaus would have insisted she stay behind. They must have looked like a motley crew: the demigod, the hunter, Gabrielle and Rosoin, and their centaur guide Agrius. Agrius carried a pack containing their weapons. They were travelling unarmed, at least visibly.

They were making their way through thick forest. It was the sort of terrain that would normally have made Iolaus feel right at home, but this place held an air of menace. Without warning, they were surrounded by masked Amazons. Hercules had been expecting them, and instantly clasped his hands above his head: the Amazon symbol of peace. Agrius made the same gesture, just a heartbeat behind Hercules. The rest of them were a little slower.

One Amazon, wearing a bear mask, broke away from the rest and approached Hercules, clearly having singled him out as the leader of their group. The spear in her hand was held lightly, but in a threatening posture. Hercules was silent, his eyes never leaving her, waiting for her to make the first gesture of welcome or aggression.

Standing in front of the demigod, the Amazon was almost his height. She pushed her mask back, revealing her face. "You know our ways," she commented, "and you approach unarmed." She looked the demigod up and down with frank curiosity. "What do you want?"

"To speak with your queen…Lysia," Hercules answered.

Something about the way Hercules was standing…Iolaus realised he was more nervous now than he had been.

But Lysia agreed to take them to the queen. As the Amazons led them off, Iolaus muttered to Hercules, "Buddy, I hate it when you keep secrets from me. You know her?"

"Yeah," Hercules confirmed, speaking quietly so only Iolaus would hear. "I’d forgotten about her until I saw her…honestly! Look, I’ll explain later, Iolaus."

_Oh, gods,_ Iolaus thought. _It’s going to be one of those._

***

"What do you want? And why come to me?" In contrast to Lysia, Queen Hippolyta looked tiny opposite Hercules. She was a small woman, every inch an Amazon with dark flashing eyes and a striking beauty. Despite her small stature, she had a presence, an authority that made her seem taller. Hercules had approached her with a deference that was unusual for him: unusual enough to make Iolaus wonder what his friend hadn’t told him.

When the demigod mentioned the Conqueror, Hippolyta laughed derisively.

"Before you comment on my sanity, my queen," Hercules interrupted her, "hear me out." Hippolyta took a step back, indicating with a tilt of her head that she was listening. Hercules went on, "I want the Conqueror gone. I _don’t_want to take her place. Once she’s defeated, I’ll go back where I came from. And you’ll never see me again."

"I’m supposed to believe that?" The queen’s eyes moved over Hercules’ companions, waiting, and watching. They weren’t quite prisoners, but it was clear to them all that Hippolyta was in control here.

"It’s the truth. Whether you trust me or not is up to you."

"How _can_ I trust you? I don’t know you."

"Test me."

Her dark eyes narrowed. "Test you? How?"

"Any way that will have meaning for you." Iolaus caught his breath as Hercules knelt on the woven rush mat before the Amazon Queen. "I’m not seeking power, Queen Hippolyta. I’m willing to prove myself to you…"

Iolaus watched the scene in disbelief. He saw the queen draw a curved, wicked-looking dagger from the sheath at her waist and the hunter’s hand moved automatically to where his sword should have been.

The tip of the blade rested lightly against the hollow of Hercules’ throat. "Any way?" Hippolyta purred.

The Amazons were a warrior race. A test, to them, usually meant some form of battle and the price of failure was death. Hercules knew that. He raised his eyes to Hippolyta’s. "A battle to the death will serve no one, my queen. But if that’s what you require…"

The dagger in her hand vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "It isn’t." The hardness of her gaze softened as she smiled, briefly. "Submission doesn’t come naturally to you, does it, Hercules?"

He relaxed enough to smile wryly. "No," he admitted.

"Then get up and tell me your plans."

Hippolyta had noted their condition: they had been travelling for a long time and were all tired, hungry. So they shared a meal while they talked. The atmosphere was considerably more friendly; they relaxed on piled-up cushions around a low table. The food was simple: bread and cheese, cold meat, but to the weary group it might have been ambrosia.

Queen Hippolyta, having decided to trust, would do so completely. She was accompanied by Lysia and two other women while they ate, but only Hippolyta spoke, asking occasional, pointed questions while Hercules explained what he wanted to do.

Hippolyta was clearly less than convinced. "What makes you think you can succeed when so many have failed?" she asked him.

Hercules hesitated. She was still testing him, with a loaded question like that. Many of those failures: Caesar, the Amazons, had been powerful nations. "I don’t think anyone has tried what I’m suggesting," he told her. "Xena was the Destroyer of Nations…because she knew how to divide and conquer. I’m talking about uniting behind one purpose — against Xena. Not to fight for some scrap of land, but for freedom."

"You make a good speech, Hercules, but men" — there was a heavy stress on the word — "won’t unite behind an ideal."

He hadn’t missed her emphasis. "I think they will. All they lack is a focus. We can provide that. Besides…I _know_ Xena. That’ll give us an edge." He sounded supremely confident.

"And leave the world in chaos when you’re done?" Hippolyta asked archly.

Hippolyta had all the fire he remembered, but Hercules had never had the opportunity to know her as a queen. This side of her was new to him; he was impressed. "I hope not," he said. His gaze singled out Hippolyta. "But for that I’ll need your help. And yours." He looked at Gabrielle.

"What can I do?" Gabrielle asked nervously. "A useless cripple on the run from the gods."

Hippolyta snapped, "You can get rid of that attitude for a start. If you _know_your weaknesses, they will become your greatest strengths." Abruptly, she stood. "Come, Gabrielle."

No one had mentioned Gabrielle’s right of caste to Hippolyta.

"Herc…" Iolaus began worriedly, as Gabrielle rose and followed the Amazon Queen from the room. He was surprised by her compliance.

"Better to have this happen now than later," Hercules told him. "Don’t worry: Gabrielle’s in no danger."

"Still, I’d rather…"

"Is there any reason we can’t follow them?" Hercules asked Lysia.

She seemed pleased he didn’t know the answer. "Protective, aren’t you?" she challenged.

He had hoped she would be a little less hostile. But he refused to be provoked. "I have a responsibility toward my people," he told her mildly. "As your queen has to hers."

"You can follow. But don’t interfere."

***

Gabrielle accepted the staff from Hippolyta and waited. It was a familiar weapon: Ephiny had taught her the rudiments of its use, though Gabrielle had no confidence in her skill. She needed a staff to walk, not to fight. She showed no sign of apprehension, but inwardly she was shaking. Later, when she talked this over with Iolaus they would find it funny that she who had faced the Conqueror without fear, and had defied Hera and lived to tell of it, had been so intimidated by this Amazon. But then, there was more at stake.

They stood outside, on the grass, in a roughly square area marked off by ropes. There were other Amazons around, but other than a few curious glances, they paid no attention to their queen’s actions. Hippolyta was an unknown to Gabrielle. Through her friendship with Ephiny, Gabrielle knew a little about the Amazons, but she had no idea what Hippolyta intended.

The queen was carrying a staff of her own. She stood ready and swung at Gabrielle, giving her plenty of time to see the blow coming. Gabrielle reacted automatically, as she had been taught, parrying the blow. It was followed by another, and another, but Gabrielle knew now that Hippolyta wasn’t really trying to harm her. Or was she playing with her? Then Gabrielle slipped on the uneven ground. Somehow, she resisted the instinct to use the staff to break her fall, instead lashing out as she fell. Hippolyta leapt over the clumsy blow. Then she threw her staff down and offered her hand to Gabrielle.

Gabrielle accepted the queen’s hand and climbed painfully back to her feet.

"Well, you’re no cripple, Gabrielle. You have good instincts and you’re quick. If you have the determination to match, you could be an Amazon."

"She already is," Iolaus called from the sidelines. He and Hercules had witnessed nearly all of this exchange. Once assured that Gabrielle wasn’t in danger, he had rather enjoyed the Amazon’s surprise that Gabrielle knew what she was doing.

Hippolyta turned to him, her expression demanding an explanation.

Iolaus stepped into the roped-off area. "Ephiny gave Gabrielle her right of caste."

"And Ephiny would be…?"

Gabrielle answered, "Of the tribe of Queen Melosa. The last of that tribe, unless you count those who followed Velasca."

"I don’t," Hippolyta answered grimly. "Do you understand what a right of caste is?"

Gabrielle nodded. "I know. I’m not sure I want it."

"Well, that’s only wise. I can teach you what you need to know to make a choice." Hippolyta turned to Hercules, then. "You could have mentioned this before. You’d have got a much better reception."

"No," Hercules disagreed. "You had to agree to work with _me_, not Gabrielle."

"Perhaps you’re right." Hippolyta looked again at Gabrielle, and at Iolaus, who had moved to her side. "Well, Hercules, it seems you’ve made an ally of the Amazons."

***

…and that had been the beginning of it. Gabrielle had learned, and in learning all the Amazons had to teach her, she had changed a great deal. She regained the self-confidence she had lost on the Conqueror’s cross. More importantly, she regained her sense of hope. There were days when Iolaus barely recognised her. She would never be a match in a fight for Xena or even for Iolaus, but she could hold her own, and with an army around them now that was all that was necessary. She would never be the Gabrielle Iolaus knew in his own world…but he was beginning to forget that Gabrielle. The feelings of compassion he had felt for the wounded young rebel, feelings that had become passion during one night, deepened into love as their plans matured and Iolaus found himself spending more time with her. Before the day they were ready to move on, Iolaus knew his heart was lost.

Hercules had set events in motion. As things began to happen and their army grew, the demigod moved into the background. It was Gabrielle who took over, at least publicly. Her talent for oration — a part of her in any world, it seemed — proved invaluable as they travelled onward, working to bring together anyone and everyone with a will to fight…all the while never losing sight of their true purpose: to slow or halt the Conqueror’s advance. When Gabrielle began to take the more prominent role in their work, Iolaus appointed himself her bodyguard. Someone had to do it, and he considered himself the logical choice: he spent most nights with her as well as his days.

She had welcomed his presence, and his support. And his love.

Gabrielle took to leadership naturally. Of course, she had a year or more leading her band of rebels as experience to fall back on, but that was _not_ the role she took now. Gabrielle was the visible symbol of their cause: a victim of the Conqueror who had survived, her spirit unbroken. She told her story (the details carefully edited) over and over, everywhere they went. With no sign of fear, she spoke against the Conqueror’s rule. She spoke, not with defiance, but with sadness. She spoke of the world she wanted to see. She spoke with passion…and with hope.

It hadn’t been easy on her. Iolaus, one night trying to massage the tension out of her shoulders, or on another holding her close because she was too tired to make love, silently stroking her hair until she fell asleep in his arms, could not help but worry. The toll their gruelling pace was taking on her was too much. He bit his tongue when he wanted to criticise, because he knew as well as she did the rightness of what they were doing. He knew, too, that there is a momentum to these things: if they had tried to pause or slow down they would have lost everything they gained.

Thus, Queen Gabrielle of the Amazons became the figurehead leader of the first (and hopefully the last) true rebellion against Xena, the Conqueror. Hercules and Queen Hippolyta acted as her advisors and no one, who had not been there at the beginning, knew that the real leader of their forces was Hercules.

Iolaus, largely because of the strain it all put on Gabrielle, had at first questioned the wisdom of Hercules staying in the background.

"I want to help these people, Iolaus, not lead them," Hercules had insisted. "I _have_ to be able to leave when it’s over. Hippolyta, Gabrielle, Kaliepus: they’re all fine leaders. As long as people trust them, it’ll work."

He had brought up Hippolyta’s name again. And for the tenth time, Iolaus had asked, "What is it with you and Hippolyta, anyway?" Somehow, Hercules had never gotten around to telling him how he knew the Amazon Queen. "I mean, I never thought you’d trust someone who used to serve Hera."

"You mean like Gabrielle?" Hercules had asked. Then with a wry grin, he added, "_Used to_ is the point, Iolaus. I have reasons to trust Hippolyta."

"Oh, that’s clear!" Iolaus retorted. It was obvious Hercules wasn’t going to tell him. Hercules had just laughed and changed the subject.

***

That had been the beginning.

Now, they were at war.

Iolaus knew, in his heart, that Hercules was right to want to end the war they had started. They never wanted war, but it had been the only way to stop the slaughter: to direct the Conqueror’s attention elsewhere.

There was just one problem. Hercules’ plan was very risky. And it was Gabrielle’s life on the line, as well as his own. Iolaus was afraid even to consider that he might lose them both.


	13. The Golden Hind

Xena looked around curiously. The arsenal of weapons lining the walls and the prominent statues, very familiar to her, made it clear they were in a temple of Ares. "I thought I’d seen all your temples," she said to the god at her side.

"Ah, well, this is just a little, homey place," Ares replied with false modesty. With a gesture, he lit the torches around them.

"What are we doing here, Ares?" Xena got straight to the point. She moved away from him, examining the weapons lining the walls with professional interest. They weren’t bad…

"I told you: there’s someone I want you to meet." Ares regarded the Conqueror critically. Xena wore a long robe, cut in the eastern style, high-necked with a wide skirt and sleeves. "No, that won’t do at all," he said to himself. A wave of his hand and her clothing vanished.

Xena began to turn to him, an angry remark on the tip of her tongue. The next moment she found herself dressed in battle-leathers and armour, both falchions at her sides and with her signature chakram hanging from its hook. "Ares?" she questioned.

"Much better, my Xena," the god approved. He stepped close to her, lifting the chakram from its place. "You’ll need this," he told her, handing the weapon back to her.

The incongruous sound of hooves clattering on the tiled floor made Xena spin round, gripping her chakram. Her eyes widened, but that was the only sign of her surprise. The Conqueror covered her emotion quickly, but couldn’t help staring at the creature standing in the arched doorway. A creature with the upper body of a woman, with hair as golden as her tunic and her horns, with the lower body of a deer. A golden hind. Remembering the legends about such creatures, Xena wondered why Ares had brought her here.

"Ah, Serena," Ares greeted her. "I wanted you to meet Xena." He gestured toward the warrior woman.

"I know who you are," the hind said, walking further into the room but not approaching Xena. "Conqueror." She lowered her golden head slightly; from this proud creature, Xena supposed that was a bow.

The god of war moved to the hind’s side. "The last golden hind," he announced. "I saved her when Zeus killed the others of her kind. I’ve sheltered her here, protected her. I trained her personally, Xena. She could be a valuable addition to your forces."

The hind stepped awkwardly away from the god’s approach. "Ares, I’m not a warrior. I don’t want to…"

"Your wishes," Ares snapped, interrupting, "don’t interest me." To Xena he said, "Go ahead. Test her."

Xena looked at Ares with narrowed eyes. What was his agenda here? The god’s face gave nothing away. Test her. Xena lifted her chakram, giving the hind time to see what she was doing. In a blur of motion, the chakram left her hand. The spinning disk careered off a pillar, hit the wall and flew straight for the hind. Calmly, the hind reached up and caught the chakram, seizing it from flight with perfect timing.

The next instant, there was an arrow from the hind’s bow flying toward Xena. Xena, with a graceful ease born of long experience, snatched the arrow from the air. She hadn’t even seen the hind draw. She walked toward the creature, each of them looking at the other with some respect. She held out the arrow wordlessly. The hind took it, and held out the chakram in return.

As she took her weapon from the hind’s hand, Xena’s sharp eyes saw the thin line of blood across her palm. She thought little of it. How many times had she cut herself while learning to use the chakram?

Ares, too, noticed the cut. Smoothly, he grasped the hind’s wrist. "Careless of you, my dear," he chided gently, though he did not seem displeased. "Your blood," he added, "is far too valuable to be spilled." He passed a hand briefly over her palm, healing the wound.

"Thank you," the hind said softly.

Xena replaced her chakram on its hook. "Ares, what’s the point of this?" she asked. Though now, she believed she knew the answer.

"Serena has many talents, Xena. I think you could use her."

Xena nodded. "I’m sure I can. Let’s go, Ares. I have a war to fight."

The air around the hind shimmered as she transformed into her mortal shape.

"Very impressive," Xena said.

***

"You don’t need a sharpening stone for that," the smith commented, admiring the sword Hercules held. Despite hard use in weeks of war, the blade was as bright as the day it was forged. It wasn’t even nicked.

Hercules ran the whetstone slowly down the length of the blade. "Hephaestus does excellent work," he agreed. "But that’s all the more reason to take care of it."

"This," put in a familiar voice behind him, "from a man who for twenty years wouldn’t carry a weapon at all."

Hercules turned to face his friend. He smiled. They had been arguing too much recently. Iolaus grinned back. It was more of a peace offering than Hercules had expected. Iolaus was convinced his plan would get Gabrielle killed. Hercules couldn’t really blame him for being afraid of losing her. He thanked the smith and began to walk away. Iolaus fell into step beside him and for a moment it felt just like old times. But they were walking through an encamped army and Hercules found himself thinking of much younger days. Not for the first time, he reflected how much he missed having Jason around.

"What do you think?" he asked Iolaus. _Come on, my friend. Let’s have the truth this time._

Iolaus shrugged. "Why ask me now? You know damned well what I think." Sorrow in his voice, and memory, but no anger.

Hercules knew they were thinking of the same thing: another time when he had regretted not trusting his partner’s instincts. _Gods, I hate that…_ "You think it’s crazy and suicidal, I know. But, Iolaus, you haven’t told me _why_. You used to have more confidence in me."

The hunter looked at him in surprise. "Herc, it’s not that. It’s not only about you. And I love her, Hercules. I love her. If anything — "

"_Nothing_ will happen to her."

"I wish I was sure of that. The Conqueror scares me, Hercules." He looked away, remembering. The crucifixion of Gabrielle would haunt him forever, all the more so since they had become involved. He sighed. "Herc, I spent ages trying to convince Gabrielle that there’s good in Xena somewhere. But after the past few weeks — all the things she’s done…"

Hercules understood. "The Destroyer of Nations has hurt your faith in Xena, is that it?"

Iolaus shook his head emphatically. "Not our Xena. With your influence on her life, with Gabrielle at her side… But the Conqueror isn’t our Xena. She’s Ares’ creature."

"No, she’s Xena. The same Xena whose army destroyed Cirra. The same Xena who seduced you and tried to kill me, even if she didn’t do those things in this world."

"It’s too late, buddy. She can’t change now."

"She will," Hercules insisted stubbornly.

"I know you want to believe that."

"Iolaus, I _have_ to believe it. Hercules raised Hephaestus’ sword before his eyes. "If I don’t, I’ll have to kill her." He looked past the highly polished blade, meeting his friend’s troubled eyes, seeing pain there reflecting his own pain.

***

_The heat and noise of the battle was overwhelming. There was dust everywhere, and smoke. From what seemed like terribly far away, Hercules saw Agrius rear, the centaur’s eyes blinded by blood. Whether the blood was his own or another’s Hercules had no way to tell. He put swift spurs to his horse and charged in to rescue his friend. His heart almost stopped when he saw the other warrior riding for the centaur: Xena, the Conqueror herself, a bloody sword in each of her hands._

_Hercules got there just in time._

_With no time to draw, he blocked the descending stroke with his gauntlet, yelling to Agruis, "Go! It’s clear behind you!" Not waiting to see if Agrius obeyed, Hercules ripped Hephaestus’ sword from its sheath._

_For a moment it seemed everything was still. His eyes met the Conqueror’s for the first time. Then her beautiful face twisted into a snarl of rage. She attacked him in a whirl of movement, somehow directing her horse as if it was an extension of herself. It was all he could do to parry the first blows. As he got a sense of her rhythm it became easier._

_He saw the battle-madness blazing from her eyes._

_Then there was an opening: the smallest mistake, a brief lowering of her guard. Hercules could have rid the world of the Conqueror right then. A single stroke, with all his strength behind it — she would have been dead._

_He let it go._

_Then the relentless sweep of the battle separated them again._

***

…"Iolaus, I don’t think I can."

If he couldn’t kill her in the heat of battle, how could he even consider doing so in cold blood? She was Xena. He knew what she was. He had seen, in weeks of war, the horrors she was capable of. But he also knew her heroic heart, and recognised in it a match for his own.

How could he kill the woman he knew as the other half of his soul?

***

The Conqueror’s Empire was ruled with an iron hand, nowhere more so than in the cities of Greece. Maintaining order in such an extensive empire required a certain degree of harshness. Yet the Conqueror also understood that she couldn’t expect miracles. Even in an army, perfect discipline all of the time was impossible. So, for one day and one night of the year in the Conqueror’s empire, there were no rules.

She had learned the tradition during her conquest of the northern part of the continent, and brought it back with her to Greece. The Solstice night had become much more than merely a festival of the gods. It was a night of abandoned revelry. The following morning, there were always a few murders to investigate, and property to be repaired. It was a small price to pay for order.

"Will you do as Ares suggests?" Daunus asked. He spoke quietly, aware as always that even in the Conqueror’s private chambers there could be listeners.

The Conqueror stood at her balcony, looking out over her snow-covered city. Her eyes were distant. "I don’t like the idea, Daunus," she admitted. "A true warrior shouldn’t have to resort to murder."

"Yet the man is a traitor to your realm." His tone was carefully non-committal.

Xena turned away from the winter view. "Is he, Daunus? I’m not sure any more." There was a look of speculation in the Conqueror’s eyes.

A look Daunus noted with some hope. He wondered if the Conqueror, too, was weary of war. She could never admit such a thing, of course. Yet it was true that she had changed in this past year, changed greatly. Perhaps she would be willing to entertain the idea of peace. "Conqueror," he began, hesitantly, "perhaps there is an alternative." She said nothing, but she was paying attention. "Many things can be done under cover of the Festival," he said.

"What are you suggesting?" Xena asked him.

"An invitation, perhaps."

"You mean negotiate?" Xena pounced on his words. "Openly?" The Conqueror’s tone was dangerous and Daunus knew he had to tread warily. The Conqueror had often said that to negotiate was to admit defeat. Daunus, who had been there when she negotiated peace with the centaurs, knew how deeply she believed that.

But he had begun. Now he had no choice but to finish. "Exactly," he said.

The Conqueror rounded on him, anger flashing behind her eyes. "How do I negotiate, Daunus?" she demanded. How can I bargain with him when I don’t have the slightest idea what he wants? We’ve been fighting since the summer’s end and I have no idea why!! His strategy makes no sense. He wins a battle, then pulls back."

"Then perhaps it’s time we found the answer to that question. If I may suggest…"

The Conqueror listened to her advisor’s plan. When he had finished, she asked a single question. Then she agreed to his advice.

Left alone, the Conqueror returned to her balcony. She looked out across the landscape and remembered…

***

_The heat and noise of the battle was exhilarating. With every breath, her nostrils filled with the scent of death. Intoxicating. Xena laughed, a wild, berserker’s scream, her swords dealing death on every side. She saw the centaur rear, obviously wounded. She rode in for the kill. Centaurs! Traitors, every one of them!_

_Her sword, on its way to the centaur’s heart, was blocked. Not by a shield, or another weapon, but by a man’s gauntleted arm._

_The force behind her descending sword should have shattered the bones of his wrist._

_It didn’t._

_Their eyes met. The shock of that meeting penetrated even Xena’s battle-rage. For just an instant, the world stopped moving as two threads, always destined to entwine, met for the first time. She knew she was looking at Hercules._

_Somehow, this man held her fate in his hands._

_It was intolerable!_

_The rage returned and she attacked. The strength and speed Ares had given her was at full force. Yet somehow, every blow she dealt was parried._

_Xena felt her enemy’s super-mortal strength. She sensed how much of his power he held back. The Conqueror faced death in those moments, realising that if he attacked her with his full strength she might not even see the blow that killed her._

_Then the relentless sweep of the battle separated them again._

***

Perhaps only the Fates knew which thread was marked to be cut when next they met.


	14. Truce or Dare?

The mask covered two thirds of his face. A carved sharp beak covered the nosepiece, with beautifully painted feathers surrounding it. Radiating out from the mask was a huge fan of genuine peacock feathers, mimicking a peacock’s tail. When he moved, the feathers bowed and waved. The mask came with a cloak, deep blue and voluminous.

"You have _got_ to be joking," Hercules declared.

Iolaus started to nod and found himself almost overbalanced by the weight as the long feathers caught the air. He checked his movement quickly and carefully eased himself out of the mask. "It’s a perfect disguise for you," he grinned. And, at Hercules’ you’re-gonna-pay-for-this look, he added, "Hey, you _told_ me to improvise!" He placed the mask on the floor, balanced against the canvas wall, out of their way.

"You’ve done that, all right." Hercules agreed reluctantly, but he could see the sense in Iolaus’ choice, even if the idea of wearing that…thing…was repulsive. "It’s not exactly inconspicuous, Iolaus."

"You don’t want it to be, Herc. You want ’em to take you for someone important."

"Good point." He turned his back on the mask. "What did you find for Gabrielle?"

"Choice of two. Eagle or lion."

"Lion?" Hercules frowned. "Not lioness?"

"I thought it might be an idea to change her sex. It’s a lion mask: everyone will think she’s your pageboy."

Hercules put on an expression of mock-surprise. "That’s a very good idea, Iolaus." He grinned at his friend, who was trying not to look offended. Then, all pretence at humour gone, he said, "We don’t have a lot of time, Iolaus. Will you find Gabrielle?"

"Sure." Iolaus headed for the tentflap, then changed his mind and turned back. "Herc, what if something does go wrong? I mean, what do you want me to do if…if…"

"If one of us is killed?" Hercules said for him.

Silently, as if not saying it would help prevent it, Iolaus nodded. They both knew death was a very real possibility.

Hercules just looked at him for a moment. Then he reached into the pouch at his waist, bringing out a disk of blackened metal: the medallion Hephaestus had made for him. "Take this, Iolaus."

Iolaus accepted it, not understanding.

"It’s our way home, Iolaus," Hercules explained. "It works together with my gauntlet. Here…" Quickly, Hercules showed him how to use Hephaestus’ creation. "The Conqueror fights by the same code I remember Xena lived by. Iolaus, if…anything happens, she’ll let you claim…"

"Stop it! D’you think I could go home without you? Gods! What would be the point?"

Hercules looked at his friend. There was more being said than the words. For the first time, he began to seriously consider that, when this was all over, he might be going home alone.

***

"Seems a shame to cover this up." Iolaus smiled, kissing Gabrielle lightly on the lips before handing her the mask.

Gabrielle smiled back nervously. She was dressed in loose trousers and a decorated shirt, both made of pale leather, and her hair was held back from her face in braids. As far as Iolaus was concerned, even with the mask in place she was beautiful, and a man would have to be blind to take her for a boy. Well, it would be dark, and he was, as Hercules had pointed out, a biased judge where Gabrielle was concerned.

"Thank you," she said softly. Green eyes met blue. There was nothing left to say.

***

_That morning, Iolaus had woken to find Gabrielle crying silently beside him. He had taken her into his arms and held her close, murmuring words of love. She had been like this in the early days of their war, but this was the first morning for a long time he had found her crying. Wiping the tears from her eyes with gentle fingers, he asked her what was wrong._

_She looked up into his eyes. "I’m going back to Corinth. Iolaus…I never thought I’d see Corinth again." She swiped at her own eyes trying to force a smile. "Two years ago, at the Solstice festival…Orestes took me dancing in the square. Iolaus, we had so much fun. It was so rare to see him smile, but that night…" The smile faded. "That’s all gone, now. When I picture that square, now, I see it from above."_

_"Gabrielle, if you want me to tell Hercules you’ve changed your mind, I will."_

_For a moment it seemed she would say yes. Then she shook her head firmly. "No, Iolaus. He’s right — we have to end this war somehow. But…we can’t possibly win, can we?"_

_"My love." He pulled her tightly against him. "You’ve been paying far too much attention to me arguing with Hercules. Listen…" He broke off, searching for the words. "Herc knows what he’s doing. I know I’ve disagreed with him about this, but, Gabrielle, you’ve got to understand, I’ve known Hercules most of my life. And all the time I’ve known him I’ve been telling him that this or that is gonna get him killed. It never does. Gab, he’s half god. More than that, even. If he was mortal, he’d already be dead — and so would I._

_"I don’t know if he can pull this off. But I’ve seen him work miracles before. And, Gabrielle…" He drew away to look into her eyes. "Even if he fails, if everything goes wrong tonight, he’ll get you out of there alive. If I didn’t believe that, it’d be snowing in Tartarus before I’d let either of you try this."_

_She had kissed him then, with all of the frank passion he loved about her. "Thank you."_

_He smiled. "All part of the service, my queen," he teased._

_She ran a hand through his hair, her fingers coming to rest on his cheek. "You changed my life, Iolaus. Whatever happens, I want — "_

_He covered her lips with the tips of his fingers, cutting off the rest of her words. "No, love. No goodbyes." He leaned close and kissed her. "We’ve got at least an hour before we have to get up…"_

_She grinned, her hand drifting lower over his body. "Looks to me like you’re up already."_

***

He helped her fix the mask in place and stepped back to take in the full effect. It was surprisingly successful. In the festival atmosphere of Corinth, no one would give her a second glance.

"Incredible," Iolaus said, turning her to face Hercules.

_Take care of her, Herc._

_I promise._

Neither of them needed to say the words aloud.

"Are we ready?" Hercules asked.

Gabrielle nodded, her lion mask rustling as she moved. "Ready."

***

There was a commotion at the entrance and Iolaus looked up, his heart suddenly pounding with fear. He hadn’t gone to bed. The tent he shared with Gabrielle would have felt too lonely; there was no way he could have slept there. He had tried to join the party for a while, but for the first time in his life, he wasn’t in a festival-type mood. So he’d ended up here, in the leaders’ tent, and found a kindred spirit in Rosoin. They been talking all evening, both trying to hide their nervousness, chatting with the others as they drifted in and out of the tent from time to time.

Iolaus didn’t begrudge them their celebrations. It was Solstice, after all. Everyone needed to relax and the festival provided the perfect opportunity. Of necessity, only a few people knew what Hercules was attempting to do, tonight. So the others had reason to celebrate.

The only possible reason for this unceremonious entry was trouble.

Lysia burst into the tent, dragging someone — a man — with her. Agrius was just behind them. The centaur looked angry.

Iolaus was on his feet at once, his hand reaching for a weapon as he automatically placed himself between them and Rosoin. "What’s going on, Lysia?"

"We caught him — " she pushed her prisoner forward " — sneaking around outside the fortifications. Agrius says he knows him." She indicated the centaur with a jerk of her head.

Iolaus saw he was carrying a drawn sword. He also realised that he, too, recognised the prisoner. Xena’s ambassador, Daunus. He only had a moment to consider the implications of this.

Rosoin said firmly, "Agrius, put the sword away. He’s obviously unarmed. Or did you take weapons from him?" Her sharp eyes were studying the man’s clothing: plain, but expensive material.

Daunus answered for them. "I came unarmed. And I wasn’t _sneaking_ anywhere." He glanced pointedly at Lysia.

"I know who you are," Iolaus told him.

"He’s a traitor to my people," Agrius insisted. His naked sword was still in his hand, his hostility more than evident.

Iolaus gave the centaur a warning look. He remembered Daunus’ meeting with Kaliepus, though he’d witnessed it only from a distance. It had been obvious then that the centaurs and Xena’s ambassador had a history. "Daunus, isn’t it?" he said, trying to sound friendly. "Why are you here? Somehow, I don’t think you were lost."

"I want to speak with Hercules."

Lysia blurted, "Not a chance!" Fortunately, she was behind Daunus; he couldn’t have seem her expression.

Thinking quickly, Iolaus turned to Agrius. "Rosoin’s right. Put the sword away, Agrius. We have an opportunity here. Let’s not waste it. Lysia, Queen Hippolyta should be here. And I’d like you to post some guards around this tent: see if a few people you trust have escaped the party."

He saw the flash of annoyance in her eyes. Lysia didn’t like taking orders from men. But she covered it quickly and smiled. "Party?" she said, "I didn’t see any party."

Iolaus couldn’t help smiling after her as she left the tent. After a moment’s hesitation, Agrius followed her, his tail swishing. Rosoin started to rise.

"Rosoin, I think you should stay," Iolaus suggested.

"Are you going to let me see Hercules?" Daunus asked him.

_I can’t, tonight._ "First," Iolaus told him, "you have to convince Hippolyta and myself that Hercules will want to hear what you have to say."

"You?" Daunus sounded sceptical. "I remember you. You’re a thief."

"I’m what?"

"You stole the Chronos Stone from the Conqueror."

Iolaus’ eyes widened and he tried, unsuccessfully, to hide a smile. "I’d almost forgotten that. You don’t miss much, do you? Um…you knew what it was?"

Daunus nodded.

"Did Xena?"

"No. Can you imagine what she might do with that kind of power?"

_So you’re not afraid to keep something from Xena if you have to._

It was at that moment Hippolyta walked in. Tonight, the Amazon Queen was not dressed as an Amazon. She wore a full-length skirt in flowing purple silk, a matching tunic. For a moment Iolaus was sorry he’d dragged her away from the party. She was obviously intending to enjoy herself.

"What’s going on?" Hippolyta asked him. Straight to the point, as always.

"This is Daunus." Iolaus indicated the other man with a gesture. "He’s the Conqueror’s ambassador. Says he wants to speak with Hercules."

Hippolyta gave away none of the surprise she must have felt. She answered at once. "Tonight, you speak with me. I am Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons. This is Rosoin." Her hand rested lightly on Rosoin’s shoulder. "She’s an advisor to myself and to Queen Gabrielle. And Iolaus is Hercules’ second."

Her crisp control of the situation was clearly familiar territory to Daunus. The man relaxed visibly. He nodded slightly, accepting her statement. "I’ve come from the Conqueror," he announced quietly. "To see if there’s some way we can find peace."

Silence followed his words. A silence broken, surprisingly, by Rosoin. "Peace? Under the Conqueror’s rule? It’s an impossible dream."

"A dream," Daunus agreed. "Not impossible, I hope."

"What is a man of peace doing at the Conqueror’s side?"

***

What a question! Something few in Corinth dared to ask, yet a question, Daunus knew, that occupied the thought of many. The Conqueror surrounded herself with warriors, like Darphus, or servants. Daunus was very much alone among them: never a warrior, yet not afraid to challenge the Conqueror.

There was a real possibility that Xena would lose her most trusted advisor if the truth became generally known: that Daunus was, in fact, her former slave.

_He was born and raised in a human village in centaur territory. Never a warrior, never a leader; just a farmer’s son who learned to listen — and remember. He was the only son of his mother’s second marriage. Her first had been to a centaur and she had two centaur sons: one of whom was Kaliepus. It wasn’t so unusual in that part of the world._

_When the Conqueror’s army came, it threw their peaceful lives into chaos. She was known then as the Destroyer of Nations: she had defeated the Amazons to the east and on the strength of that could have allied with the centaurs — the Amazons’ traditional enemies — in a moment. But she demanded the one thing no centaur would give her: the Ixion stone._

_Daunus, like so many others, had to make a choice. To flee into exile or to fight. The stories that filtered in of Xena’s conquests made exile seem an attractive option. Many packed up and left. But for Daunus, the choice wasn’t so simple. He had two centaur half-brothers, who would be going to war. While they hadn’t been raised together, they were close, and he felt a loyalty to them. He chose to stay and fight._

_All he achieved was to prove to himself and everyone else that he was incompetent as a warrior. It wasn’t even a battle, merely a scouting expedition that was ambushed by Xena’s well-trained troops. Daunus had been wounded and taken prisoner._

_Xena, Destroyer of Nations, wasn’t one to waste time on prisoners. The men who had been badly wounded were killed. Just like that. Daunus, someone decided, would live. They treated his wound and put a slave collar around his neck._

In the spirit of trust, Daunus summarised his story when Hippolyta repeated Rosoin’s question. He was uncomfortable telling it, but he sensed that each of them had a story. And only total truth would foster the trust they would need to make peace.

"The next thing I knew, I was being interrogated," he explained. "I didn’t want to die. I answered their questions."

"That’s why Agrius considers you a traitor," Iolaus put in.

But Daunus said, "No. Iolaus, I didn’t know anything that could be useful to them. I knew nothing of battle plans or strategies. I didn’t even know that Kaliepus would be their new leader when the first was killed. Everything I told them they knew already. All I could add was the names of people. The Conqueror didn’t truly need that knowledge."

He paused, taking a breath, remembering. "When Borias betrayed Xena it turned the tide of the war. The centaurs, with his help, were able to fight her to a stalemate. Neither side could win: the war would have dragged on until we were all dead. But then…" Daunus hesitated.

"We know about her son," Hippolyta told him.

"No, you don’t. The Conqueror wanted a good life for her son. She gave birth in the middle of a war…and something about it changed her. She intended, I’m sure, to give her son to Borias. She sent men to capture him unharmed, but he fought them to the death. When she heard Borias was dead, she started to ask me about the centaurs again.

"I told her what she wanted to know. I told her Kaliepus was a good man."

"Why did she trust you?"

Daunus shook his head. "I have no idea. Perhaps because she knew I wanted peace. Perhaps she was simply desperate for someone’s advice. I know it was my words that convinced her to trust Kaliepus. It made peace possible.

"Her deal with Kaliepus was private. They still had to negotiate a treaty publicly. To satisfy both sides that the peace was genuine. During those negotiations, Xena kept me at her side. Kaliepus believed I had betrayed them. Had he known I had no choice…" he shook his head, dismissing the thought. "That’s ancient history. My brother believes what he believes."

_When Daunus was no longer useful, Xena sold him to a slave trader. In a strange way, that was a reward: everyone else who had known what became of her child had died. His life in the years that followed was a harsh one but, Daunus told them and himself, it could have been a great deal worse. He survived._

_He next encountered Xena, by then known as the Conqueror, when her army took Sparta. His master at the time had been one of the dignitaries of the city; and Daunus was present when the Conqueror marched into the central square. Someone had thrown a spear at her. Daunus shouted a warning, saving her life._

"Don’t ask me why I did it. It’s not something I regret, but if I’d had time to think about it I’d probably have stayed silent. I didn’t owe her anything. In gratitude, she offered me my freedom." Daunus hesitated. "The rest is hard to explain. I took a look at my life, and realised I didn’t have anywhere to go. I couldn’t go home — Kaliepus would have killed me on sight. I told the Conqueror I would rather stay and serve her.

"We’ve become friends. She needs a stable advisor at her side. I can’t always influence her, but I do try." He shrugged. "I’m the only friend she has. I think she appreciates that."


	15. ...On Solstice Night

It was a rowdy gathering.

An observer would have said the Conqueror was drunk: the warrior queen was laughing with the others, one hand gripped a goblet, the contents of which spilled over her fingers as she gestured. Her speech was slurred, and a little too loud. But Xena was stone-cold sober. She rarely drank to excess. The loss of control didn’t suit her. It suited her, however, to let others think otherwise.

The guard who interrupted the gathering seemed nervous. He approached the Conqueror’s table with deference, reluctant to speak to The Conqueror.

To everyone’s surprise, the Conqueror rose at once and left the gathering, with the guard at her heels. There would be much speculation among those sober enough to notice.

"I tried to find Daunus, but…" The guard attempted to apologise as the door closed behind them, closing off the sounds of the celebrations.

Xena interrupted him quickly. "Daunus isn’t in Corinth tonight. You did the right thing bringing this to me. What’s your name, soldier?"

"Keros, Conqueror."

She made a note of it: it never hurt to remember these things.

The corridors of the palace were deserted, but for the unfortunate guards who had lost wagers or ballots for duty this night. Later, there would be many people wandering these halls, drunkenly in search of their beds, or of someone else’s bed. Xena did not speak again as they walked.

Behind them, in the shadows, the cloaked figure of a man lurked. He followed the Conqueror at a distance. His movements kept him in the shadows; a man used to concealment.

They entered a well-lit chamber in the healers’ wing of the palace. A man, badly wounded, lay on the only bed in the room. Beside him, a healer was seated. At the sound of the door opening she looked up.

"Conqueror." The healer knelt quickly, bowing her head.

"Forget the ceremony. I want your report," Xena said crisply.

"It’s a sword wound, Conqueror. Clumsy, but effective, I’m afraid. I’ve done all I can."

Xena leaned over the wounded man. A cursory examination was enough. He was unconscious, very pale, sweating. "Infection?" she asked.

The healer nodded. "The wound is over a week old, Conqueror. It would take a miracle to heal him now."

"And you’re fresh out of miracles, I guess. Well, maybe I can arrange one for you. Will you stay with him?"

"I will, Conqueror."

"Thank you." Xena adjusted the wide sleeve of her robe as she left the room, a casual movement. "Walk with me, soldier," she instructed, heading not back to the gathering, but toward her chambers. Reaching the staircase, she slowed her pace as if tired.

In a lightning-quick movement, Xena spun, the dagger she normally kept concealed in the sleeve of her robe in her hand. The blade left her hand as quickly as it had appeared, flying straight and true to its target. The cloaked man who had followed them fell.

Keros, after an initial start of surprise, looked on calmly. Xena was impressed. This was definitely a man worth remembering. She strode over to the body, pushing the cloak away from the dead man’s face. She made a sound of disgust.

"Keros, take this" — she indicated the body with her foot — and get rid of it. I don’t much care how. Then take a message to Darphus. Tell him that the next time he tries to spy on me, I’ll make an example of him that will make his own amusements seem mild."

Keros straightened up. "Yes, Conqueror."

She turned and walked away, the incident in the past.

***

Gabrielle had assured Hercules that weeks of war wouldn’t have dampened the Festival atmosphere in Corinth. She had been right. He had never seen anything quite like this.

The streets were full of people. People dancing, people laughing. The main square was a kaleidoscope of bright colours in the torchlight. There was music, a mismatched band playing loud, jaunty tunes. Men and women danced in circles, while children chased each other around, darting between the adults with merry abandon.

And every face was masked in some way. Some people merely wore face-paint: coloured powders mixed with fat to make garish pastes. Other masks were human-like with geometric designs. Most were animal masks. A rabbit danced with a wolf, the ironic couple spinning wildly in a circle of clapping spectators. A cat ran by, trailing a long "tail" made of braided leather.

Hercules’ extravagant costume certainly made an impression. The crowds parted to let them through. Someone wearing a griffin mask even bowed as they passed. On the far side of the square, Hercules turned, looking back at the revellers. There was such freedom in this night. This was what he was fighting for. These people. Those children.

Gabrielle, at his side, was looking upwards, over the heads of the people. He followed her gaze, seeing nothing there. He had never been here before, but knew where they were. It wasn’t hard to figure out what she was thinking.

He rested one hand lightly on her shoulder. She turned her head and looked up at him, her eyes barely visible behind her mask. He wanted to speak, but in this crowd he would have had to shout, and couldn’t risk someone hearing. He let his touch convey the reassurance, hoping she would understand. She nodded, and they left the square.

Gabrielle wasn’t the only one in this world suffering beneath the weight of horrifying memories.

This night would be the beginning of the end. One way, or another.

***

The man’s breathing was easier now, though he was no closer to consciousness. Serena was too tired to do more. Her exhaustion showed. She stood, one hand clutching at the stone wall for support. After a moment, she looked up.

"He will live, Conqueror. Your healers can do the rest. With luck, you’ll be able to talk with him in the morning."

"Thank you." The Conqueror’s gratitude was genuine. Xena had discarded the heavy robe she had worn earlier in the evening and was dressed in battle-leathers, though the only weapon she carried was her chakram. The man she had killed, less than an hour before, had disturbed her. She had assumed he was a spy, but she could have been wrong. He might have been an assassin.

"What is he to you?" Serena asked curiously.

Xena’s eyes narrowed. Serena’s question was direct; in truth, the Conqueror found her frankness refreshing. Serena acted with deference and never failed to give Xena her proper title, but there was no obsequiousness in her manner, not even a hint that she considered the Conqueror her superior. It made sense, Xena supposed. They were both servants of Ares.

"He’s a spy," she shrugged, dismissing the question. "His information could lead me to my son."

"He means nothing to you personally?"

Another shrug. "I barely know him, _personally_." The Conqueror couldn’t afford too many close friendships. She began to walk toward the door. "I didn’t see you at the festival," she commented casually.

"I don’t like crowds."

_…Because a mortal’s touch causes her to change_, Xena remembered. Her mouth quirked briefly: almost a smile. "There’ll be crowds everywhere tonight." After a beat, she added, "Serena, you have nothing to fear. You have Ares’ protection and my own. No one will dare to harm you, hind or not."

A hint of a smile touched her lips. "I know. But I’m the last of my kind, Conqueror. I’m used to hiding."

_What are you really afraid of, I wonder?_ "Why don’t you spend the night in my chambers?" Seeing Serena’s surprise, the Conqueror laughed. "Oh, don’t look like that! I’m not going to _touch_ you. If you really want to avoid the crowds, that’s the only place I can promise you won’t be disturbed."

The offer had been made on impulse, but Xena realised she would rather not be alone tonight. Not knowing what Daunus was trying to do. _Ah, Xena, who are you trying to fool? You want a friend._

The smallest hesitation, and Serena smiled. "Thank you. I’d like the company."

***

Weeks of war.

Hundreds of lives lost.

What felt like a lifetime of planning.

Hercules thought he had considered every possibility. It was true he was relying on his knowledge of Xena, but that didn’t seem unreasonable. He knew her, in his own world, knew her well. What he had told Iolaus was right: this Xena was the same woman who had been called "Destroyer of Nations" in the history he knew. And he had a good idea what had changed this Xena…or, rather, prevented her from changing. Not only himself: Hercules wouldn’t give himself that much credit. A number of things were different in this world, small details with large consequences. This was the world created by Dahok’s daughter.

The key to it all, though, was Xena. As the Conqueror she ruled this world. It was within her power to make the world a better place…or a living hell.

He was going to find some way to reach her. He had to.

_As Xena goes, so goes the world._

Iolaus had said that to him. Unusually poetic for the hunter, but an accurate summary of the situation.

But Hercules couldn’t help Xena change if they only ever met in battle.

The Solstice festival was the perfect opportunity. It could well be their only opportunity: unlike Gabrielle, Hercules knew they couldn’t possibly win a protracted war against the Conqueror.

He could have gone into Corinth alone. Seeing Gabrielle’s fear when they crossed the square, he almost wished he _had_ come alone. Gabrielle was with him for many reasons. Because she still needed protection: no one, as Hercules could testify, crossed Hera without retribution. Her presence at his side helped, as well, to preserve the illusion that she, not Hercules, led their army. And Gabrielle herself had asked to join him: acutely aware that her actions had begun this, she wanted to help end it.

The most important reason, to Hercules, was the knowledge that Gabrielle had almost reached Xena once before. He was pinning a lot of hope on that fact. If he failed — and this was so important he had to consider the possibility — Gabrielle might be able to succeed. Even if she didn’t know it, she and Xena shared a certain bond.

He hadn’t told her that. It would only have scared her. She was a strong woman, but he didn’t want to burden her with the weight of alternative history.

He ditched the peacock mask as soon as they reached the right part of the palace. Iolaus had been right: this palace was so similar to Jason’s castle in Corinth it was eerie. Because of the Festival, security was lax and getting to the Conqueror’s chamber was easy. If guards had been posted, they were neglecting their duty. It wasn’t unusual at Solstice, Gabrielle told him.

The Conqueror’s chambers were empty. All they could do was wait.

A discarded robe lay across the large bed, leading Hercules to wonder if the Conqueror planned to sleep here at all. That was the one eventuality they hadn’t been able to plan for. Yet the chamber was prepared for use: a fire burned in the hearth, candles burned in the sconces.

They waited.

Conversation was stilted. Neither Gabrielle nor Hercules was truly able to concentrate on what the other was saying.

Then they both heard the Conqueror’s voice outside the door. Obviously, she wasn’t alone. Hercules stood, tense, prepared — he hoped — for anything. Gabrielle moved to his side, standing a little behind him.

The door swung open and a woman walked in, laughing. She saw Hercules and her smile vanished.

For Hercules, time stopped.


	16. Darkness Falls

For Hercules, time stopped, and wound back. The memory was so vivid he could smell the dusty air in the crowded marketplace at Cernaia…

_His heart full of a most unaccustomed fear, he heard himself saying, "It's dangerous for you to come here." Gods, what was he saying? He didn't mean to sound so patronising, but…what was she doing here, anyway?_

_"I thought," Serena told him, lifting her beautiful gaze to meet his eyes, "it was worth the risk."_

_Hercules felt her fingers open his hand and looked down. She was returning the chain to him. For a moment he was speechless. Well, what had he expected? "Of course," he managed to say, trying to sound understanding. Then, unable to let it go at that, "I wish I could change your mind." Inadequate words, totally inadequate. Couldn't she _feel_ how much he loved her?_

_Serena shook her head slightly. "You can't." He heard absolute resolution in her tone._

_That was it, then. All his dreams for them were over._

_"I had to give that back to you," she added gently, "…so you can give it to me at out wedding."_

_Eyes that had closed to hide the pain flew open, filled with her beautiful smile. Hardly able to believe it, Hercules stammered, "You mean…yes?"_

_That gorgeous smile became wider and she nodded._

_"Yes!" Hercules laughed exuberantly and lifted her in his arms, spinning them both round. He loved her _so_ much…_

And, only days later, husband and wife, they had been lying together in bed, talking about their plans for the future.

_"I don't want you to change your lifestyle because of me," Serena insisted. "I know how you help people, the adventures you go on. I don't want to upset that."_

_He had already changed his life for her irrevocably. In a way, what he had given up for her made her statement laughable. Hercules wouldn't remind her of that. Wouldn't, if truth be told, remind _himself_ of that. "You won't," he assured her, telling himself that the lie was acceptable. "It's just a matter of balancing what I do out there and what I do at home." An older memory intruded and he frowned. "With my family," he added darkly._

_Serena hadn't heard his change of mood. "Family?" she repeated, obviously pleased by the thought._

_Determinedly, Hercules pushed the darker memories away. They had both agreed to bury the past. Shifting in the bed so he could face her, he said softly, "Oh, yeah…"_

_Her fingers stroked gently across his cheek. "I love you so much…"_

And now, here she was.

The most beautiful, heart-lifting sight he had ever seen: Serena, happy, laughing, untouched by the pain he had brought into her life.

His sight filled with her, only her, Hercules took an involuntary step forward. "Serena," he said softly.

Serena's smile faded when she saw him. The joy in her face was gone. She was frowning. All he saw in her now was fear.

(_Fear? She's afraid of me?_)

"Do I know you?" Serena asked him.

The world snapped back into place. "No," he answered weakly.

"_I_ know you." Xena said coldly.

He hadn't even seen her there. The Conqueror stood in the doorway, wearing full battle gear. Her hand hovered over her chakram. Hercules had seen that stance too often not to recognise her tension now that he saw her.

"What in Tartarus are you doing here, Hercules?" The Conqueror demanded. She moved further into the room. "If you came here to kill me, you'd better get in line. Someone already tried tonight."

It took a massive effort, even then, to tear his eyes away from Serena. _Focus, Hercules. You can't afford the time for this!_

"I think we should talk, Xena." Someone had attacked her tonight. That explained the way she was dressed. There was a rusty bloodstain on her chakram.

"Talk?" She let the door swing closed behind her. The lock fell into place with a dull thud. She was still wound tighter than a bowstring. "Where are my guards?" she asked.

Hercules shrugged. "They're…sleeping. I didn't want us to be disturbed." _How long has Serena known the Conqueror? Is she…the hind in this world? She must be. Surely they're not…together?_ "Xena, we can spend the next few hours, or the next few years trying to kill each other — if that's what you want. Or we can talk."

The Conqueror kept eye contact with him. She was waiting, Hercules guessed for an attack. Well, it wasn't going to come. Her hand still hovered over her weapon. He looked back, ready to defend himself if he had to, hoping he wouldn't.

A moment passed. And another.

"Let's talk," Xena said. She gestured to the other side of her chamber. Near the curtained balcony there was a low table surrounded by chairs.

_Very civilised,_ Hercules thought. He rested a reassuring hand on Gabrielle's arm and walked to the table Xena indicated. Gabrielle hadn't spoken. Beneath his hand, he could feel the tension in her muscles. This was tough on her, he knew that. So far he was encouraged by Xena's reaction to him. He had half expected her to start by attacking them.

Xena followed them to the table. This was obviously where she held a lot of discussions: the table was strewn with papers. Hercules recognised a map of the countryside around Corinth before Xena cleared it away. Even living in this kind of luxury, Xena was a warrior first and last. He waited until she sat down — she took the largest chair, at the head of the table — before finding a seat himself.

A few steps behind, Serena joined them. She was carrying a tray with a jug and a couple of goblets. Hercules rose to help her automatically, but she shied away from him, avoiding his touch. Understanding, he backed off. _I guess that answers one question._

"What do you want?" Xena asked him directly.

_What use is Serena to the Conqueror? She's a weapon, but only if you're fighting the gods. Is Xena that deeply involved in Ares' plans? If she is, I'm making a big mistake coming here… No, it can't be that. Ares wouldn't trust any mortal that much. **Focus**, Hercules._

"Peace." he told Xena.

"Peace?" she repeated sceptically. Xena leaned forward, looking into his eyes. "We're fighting a war that _you_ started. A war you can't possibly win. And you came here talking about peace. Stop playing with me, Hercules. What's the price of peace? You want power? Wealth?" her voice dropped seductively. "An alliance, perhaps?"

He shook his head slowly. "Power doesn't interest me, Xena."

"Then what does?"

A brief smile. "I already told you. Peace. I didn't start this war, Xena. You did. You were crucifying everyone in sight. I had to stop you somehow. I couldn't stand by and let more innocent people die."

Xena laughed, a harsh sound with no real mirth. Her voice heavy with sarcasm, she exclaimed, "Well, aren't you the great hero!" She was on her feet, her blue eyes blazing with anger. "Who do you think you are to judge _me_? What gives you the right to decide what I can or can't do in a world _I_ rule?"

_Oops._ Hercules returned her burning gaze calmly. "What gives me the right? We all have the right, Xena. It's called freedom. What you were doing was _wrong_. Speaking out obviously wasn't going to achieve anything so I acted instead. Who am I?" He hesitated. He wanted to tell her the truth, but it would take far too long and if she didn't believe him he would lose a lot of ground. "I'm…someone who knows you, Xena. Someone who, whether you believe or not, cares what happens to you."

"Oh, nice words. I'll bet that charms many a woman into your bed." She sat back down, her eyes never leaving his. She was obviously sure she had him figured out.

_You don't understand at all, do you, Xena?_ But beneath the sarcasm, he heard the voice of the Xena he remembered. _One chance…_

"I do know you, Xena. I know what Caesar's betrayal made in you. I know about Lao Ma, and how deeply you regret what you did to her. I know about your war with the centaurs and why you withdrew your army from the field. I know about the nights you've lain awake, haunted by the face of a child you killed. I know how desperately lonely you are — enough to allow Ares to use you as he did. I know you're sick of war, Xena. Let me help you. Let's end it now."

In his memory, he heard Xena's voice:

_"Every time Iolaus looks at me I feel his hate," she said morosely. "He acts like I'm trying to drive a wedge between you again"_

Not trying,_ Hercules thought, absently stoking the campfire,_ but you might be doing it just the same. I wish he could trust you._ "When the time comes," he told her firmly, "the only thing he'll worry about is Darphus."_

_"And what about you?"_

_Hercules looked up, surprised by the question._

_Hesitantly, she met his eyes. "Could you go back to hating me? To thinking of me as the enemy?"_

_"No," he answered at once. Her hesitant reaching out for friendship touched him deeply. Xena, his enemy? Not again. "I don't think that's possible," he added softly._

_"I have done terrible things," Xena insisted. "I've killed so many men that I'll never wash their blood from my hands."_

But that's your past, Xena. It's your future that concerns me now._ "You've already started," he reminded her. "You saved that baby." The only person who could forgive Xena was herself._

_"But when _you_ help people, you honour the wife and children that Hera stole from you. There is _nothing_ in my whole life that moves me that way."_

_"You're wrong," he told her. "There's the goodness in your heart." Why could he see it so clearly, and she couldn't? _Xena, I was helping people long before I lost my family. You can, too.

_But he could see the uncertainty in her eyes._

Xena rose from her chair and walked over to the balcony, pulling the curtain aside. "There's only one thing that will end this war, Hercules," she said firmly. "It ends when I find my son."

Gabrielle flinched. Thankfully, Xena hadn't seen it.

That was it! That was the key. Xena needed someone to motivate her in her life. It wasn't that she couldn't see her own path. But she didn't have the confidence in herself, alone. Hercules saw, in that moment, what her son had meant to her. Something very different, he was sure, from Ares' plans for the child.

"You've got it backward, Xena. I won't allow you to keep searching the way you were."

Xena rounded on him furiously. "You're in no position to _allow_ me anything! Do you have any idea what it's like to lose a child? My son didn't even have a name!"

Gabrielle gasped.

Hercules spread his hands, hoping to calm her. "I understand. I really do." He glanced at Gabrielle; her face was white. "Perhaps," he tried, "there's a way we can all get what we want."

Xena followed his gaze. Her eyes narrowed, as if she was noticing Gabrielle for the first time. The Conqueror straightened, her expression becoming cold. "You have my son," she said to Gabrielle. It wasn't a question. Her eyes bored into Gabrielle's.

The truth was written all over Gabrielle's face.

"Xena, no!" Hercules shouted.

Xena saw red. The chakram was in her hand before she was even aware of it. Then it was flying across the small space between them. Directly on course for the young rebel's skull.

Serena screamed.

Hercules leapt into the path of Xena's weapon. Protecting Gabrielle with his own body, he snapped his hand up to catch the chakram mid-flight. Serena's scream distracted him and he almost missed.

His fist closed around the razor-sharp disk. Too quickly, with too much of his strength behind it.

"Xena!" he shouted. "This won't solve…"

Unexpected, burning pain cut off his words. He watched, as if from very far away, as the chakram fell from his hand. He saw his own blood dripping from his cut palm.

Serena took a step toward him, her eyes wide with shock.

There was a stain of blood on Xena's chakram.

The pain was worse. Spreading from his hand to the rest of his body. Unable, suddenly, to support himself, Hercules fell to his knees.

He heard Gabrielle say his name.

He looked up at Xena. His vision was fading in and out of focus.

He tried to speak. It was _so_ important that he speak.

His last sight was of the Conqueror, moving toward him, all anger gone from her beautiful face. The darkness closed over his head.

***

#### Another world…

The hammer fell badly, spoiling the delicate work. Hephaestus barely noticed. He set the hammer aside, not even attempting to correct the damage. He took a deep breath, collecting himself. Could he be sure, absolutely sure, of what he had felt?

Yes.

He began to limp away from the forge.

A shower of golden sparkles in front of him and Aphrodite appeared in front of him. She showed none of her usual smiles or laughter. They were so close, now, she knew something was very wrong. Their eyes met, and Hephaestus read the silent question in her indigo eyes. When he said nothing, she asked it aloud. "Hephie, what's happened?"

"I need to speak with Zeus, 'Dite. Will you come with me?"

"Sure." She looked at him with real concern. "Heph, you never go to Olympus. What's happened?"

"Zeus asked me to find a way to keep track of Hercules. While he's…away."

"Daddy wanted you to _spy_? That's way uncool."

The scarred god shook his head. "Not spy. Just keep track. I built it into the sword I gave him."

"But what's that got to do with…" Aphrodite stopped suddenly. "Uh-oh. Has something happened to Herc?" Her eyes were troubled.

"'Dite, I know you care about him. I'm sorry." He wasn't certain of the details, yet. But he knew the news wasn't good.

"Hephie…he can't be…_how_?"

"I don't know, yet. Will you come with me to Olympus?"

"Sure." They joined hands, and prepared to travel.

Hephaestus sighed heavily. "Zeus is going to kill me."


	17. Loss

#### A few hours later

"Why?" Iolaus asked again.

Gabrielle could only look at him, unable to answer. How much had changed in a few hours! But she couldn't think about that yet. It was too confusing. Better to concentrate on Iolaus.

She hadn't realised how close the two men were. She should have guessed. Iolaus had never spoken of anyone the way he had of Hercules. He had told her how long they had been friends. But the depth of their friendship wasn't something that showed on the surface.They argued as much as they joked, and their feelings weren't something either man needed to speak.

Now, on top of her own turbulent emotions, Gabrielle was feeling guilty because she hadn't realised what this would do to the man she loved. Not that there was a damn thing she could do about it. She would have given anything to undo the events of the night. There was nothing she could do.

Only hold him. Only offer Iolaus the comfort of her presence, cradling him to her breast while he wept. Most could not have offered even that much.

Gabrielle had sent the others away, even Rosoin, using harsh words when they lingered with questions. It was a good thing she had. Iolaus came first.

"Why?" he asked helplessly, when he finally raised his head to look at her.

She had no answer.

***

_When Xena tried to kill her, Gabrielle had frozen with terror. She saw the glittering silver of the chakram as it flew toward her. Seeing the Conqueror's righteous anger, Gabrielle had been certain that this was the moment of her death. She was too frightened even to scream._

_Then Hercules put himself between her and her death. He had stopped the chakram mere inches from her skull._

_"Xena, this won't solve…"_

_And Gabrielle had seen his expression change as his gaze was drawn down to his own large hands. The bloodstained chakram clattered to the floor, almost as if his hand was numb. Gabrielle saw the blood welling from his cut hand. She didn't understand at all. Hercules fell to his knees._

_"Hercules…?" Gabrielle found her voice, but no words came._

_Serena had been the first of them to comprehend. Her face grew pale as she stared, first at Hercules, then at the Conqueror. Her lips formed words Gabrielle couldn't read._

_Just who _was_ Serena anyway? Who was this woman that Hercules couldn't take his eyes off her? That the mere sight of her could move him so much?_

_The Conqueror had begun to move toward him. Gabrielle, her fear forgotten, leapt in front of Hercules. "Leave him alone! He came here in peace!"_

_"I know," Xena said. "Let me help." She pushed Gabrielle aside and knelt on the tiles beside Hercules. Her fingers felt for a pulse at his neck. She looked up. "Serena. Can you help him?"_

_Serena seemed to be in shock. "He's a god?" she said softly._

_"He's half god." Gabrielle gave the information automatically. "His father is Zeus. Does it matter?"_

_"Oh, yes," Serena whispered. Kneeling, she lifted the demigod's hand between her own. Hercules' eyes were closed. He didn't seem to be aware of them. Serena looked up at Xena. "Conqueror, I'm not sure if I…"_

_"Try," Xena insisted._

_Gabrielle still didn't understand._

_Serena became completely still, breathing deeply. As Gabrielle watched, some kind of light came from her hands, wrapping itself around Hercules as if it was something tangible. Serena's eyes closed, her breath becoming laboured. Her face was drained of colour._

_Hercules' hand moved, grasping her hand. His eyes opened.  Words, forced past pain, his voice barely a whisper. "Serena…don't waste your strength."_

_She looked up at the Conqueror, solemn, saying nothing._

_Xena was focussed on Hercules. "I'm sorry," she said helplessly. "I never intended…"_

_Somehow, he met her eyes. "I…know. I was…never…your enemy, Xena."_

_It was the last thing he said._

***

"Serena?" Iolaus laughed bitterly. "I might have known. I always said she'd be the death of him." Half hysterical, he veered between tears and joyless laughter.

Gabrielle reached out to him. "Iolaus…"

He rounded on her, slapping her hand away roughly. "Don't touch me!" he burst out savagely. "Don't you dare even speak to me! If you'd left me alone in the first place we wouldn't be here. Herc wouldn't be dead!"

Gabrielle went white. "I'm sorry — "

"Sorry! Sorry won't bring him back, Gabrielle." Something snapped inside him. He scrambled up, grabbing his sword. He headed for the tent flap.

Desperately, Gabrielle called after him. "Iolaus! Where are you going?"

"To do what we should have done in the beginning. I'm going to find the Conqueror. And kill her."

He slung his sword over his shoulder and was gone.

***

"Conqueror, he was your enemy," Serena pointed out. "And Ares' enemy."

She was wound tighter than a spring. "If Ares wanted _me_ for an enemy he's going about it the right way! He used me to commit murder." Xena's anger was directed at herself as much as at Ares. She had possessed all the information: Serena, the golden hind; Ares' instruction not to clean the hind's blood from her chakram; she knew what hind's blood was rumoured to do; she had known, — gods, _Ares_ had told her — that Hercules was something more than mortal. She just hadn't put the pieces together.

She'd been too focussed elsewhere.

"No," she said quietly, turning the chakram over in her hands. "He wasn't my enemy."

"Just because he said so?" Serena asked.

"Because," she replied, her tone dangerous, "he was telling the truth."

They had met in battle. He could have killed her easily. Instead, he had let her go. Tonight, again, if he had wanted her dead, their meeting would have gone very differently.

What was it he had seen in her? Why was a man she had been fighting for months so sure he could deal with Xena, the Conqueror? How could he — a stranger — have so much faith in her?

Faith. It was a strange feeling.

_I know you're sick of war, Xena._

"But you were at war with him," Serena frowned. "And, it sounded like he had a lot to do with the loss of your son."

Xena screamed with anger, hurling her chakram away from her. The weapon embedded itself in the bedpost. "He might have been my only chance of _finding_ my son!"

"I understand," Serena nodded. "He was a special man. I felt that, too. But he's gone. There's nothing that will change that, now." She hesitated, slightly fearful of the Conqueror's unpredictable anger, then asked, "Why did you let Gabrielle go?"

Xena's mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "To see what would happen," she shrugged. "With Hercules dead…I can defeat their army easily.I no longer need to make peace." That was the Conqueror talking…or was it? The Conqueror would have wasted no time in ordering her men to arms, festival or no festival. She would be riding out to press their unexpected advantage. Then again, the Conqueror would have cut Gabrielle's throat.

Xena's heart was no longer in it.

Because, for the briefest possible moment, she had found

_I was never your enemy, Xena._

a kindred spirit. And killed him.

She had never been so alone.

"Serena, will you do something for me?"

"I'm here to serve you, Conqueror."

Xena shook her head. "You're here to serve Ares. That might not be the same thing any more." Serena nodded, understanding, and Xena went on. "I won't demand your loyalty, Serena. I _do_ demand your honesty."

There was a long silence. "While I am here, Conqueror, I serve you." She began to turn away. "I'm not pleased with being used, either."

"Thank you. When Daunus returns he'll come straight here. Tell him what happened — everything — and ask him to wait for me. Don't tell anyone else."

"That doesn't sound too difficult. But where will you be?"

The Conqueror's smile was grim. "Alone."

***

The stable was empty. It suited her purpose, but Xena was disgusted. Even on Solstice night, there should be someone here. Her stables had to be cared for.

A dark, full length cloak concealed the Conqueror's leathers, its hood pulled down over her hair and face. She saddled her favourite horse and walked the gelding from the stable into the courtyard before she mounted up. No one tried to stop her as she rode out of the palace.

It was almost a year since she had been able to do this. Even isolated as she was, Xena sometimes needed physical, as well as emotional space. But her pregnancy had made her more cautious, and since the birth of her baby they had been at war. Now, as night faded toward dawn, caution was the last thing on her mind.

They had only spoken for a few moments. How could he have turned everything upside down so quickly?

_"I do know you, Xena…I know about the nights you've lain awake, haunted by the face of a child you killed. I know how desperately lonely you are…I know you're sick of war."_

How could a man she'd never met understand her so well?

He had been right, in every word he had said.

She rode through the city gates and urged the horse to a gallop as she left Corinth behind. Feeling the powerful muscles of the horse bunch beneath her, Xena could have laughed at that thought. Xena, the Conqueror, was sick of war. What a laugh!

For the first time since she had chosen the path of the sword, Xena had looked at the future and seen something other than darkness.

She had no one to talk to, no one who would lend an ear, or help her to navigate this whirlpool of conflicting emotion.

Xena had to face herself, with an unblinkered gaze, alone.

***

"Iolaus!" Gabrielle called after him desperately. She got no response. Only the sight of his back as he marched resolutely away. Her throat constricted with the tears that welled out of her eyes. She made no attempt to wipe them away.

If Iolaus hated her now it really had been all for nothing.

"Gabrielle," Hippolyta said softly, appearing as if from nowhere at her elbow. The Amazon queen looked from Gabrielle to the departing Iolaus. "You'd better let him go. He'll be back when he gets it out of his system."

Gabrielle shook her head, not at all sure about that. But she turned away from the direction he had gone. Hippolyta's hand on her shoulder made her turn back.

"What happened, Gabrielle?" Hippolyta asked her. "Where's Hercules?"

She looked down, biting her lip. But telling Hippolyta couldn't be worse than telling Iolaus had been. She took a deep breath. "He's dead."

Hippolyta gasped.

"I'm sorry. I had to tell Iolaus first. They were — "

"I know," Hippolyta interrupted. "You'd better tell me what happened."

"I can't! I've got to go after him…"

Hippolyta caught her arm as she began to move away. "Gabrielle, don't."

Gabrielle shook her off roughly.

"Listen to me! I know what you're feeling, Gabrielle, but you have to focus, now. We need to know what happened and we need to know what to prepare for."

Gabrielle remembered her responsibilities. A little calmer, then, she looked up tearfully. "I don't know."

_He was dead. Gabrielle was the last to realise it. When she did, all she felt was numbness. She watched the Conqueror close Hercules' eyes. Gabrielle looked up, then, and met the Conqueror's steady gaze. Instinctively, she flinched away._

_("Are you guilty?" the Conqueror had asked her. And Gabrielle, fool that she was, had answered defiantly. Her reckless words got her crucified. Now she lived with the pain every day of her life.)_

_Now memory supplied the question again. But this time…yes, she was guilty._

_She dreaded what the Conqueror would do to her now._

_The icy blue eyes narrowed._

_Then Serena spoke quietly. "No. No more killing."_

_The Conqueror relaxed. "She is right." Her eyes were drawn back to the body of the man lying between them. "There's been enough death." She looked up, meeting Gabrielle's nervous eyes coldly. "But if any harm has come to my son…"_

_"I wouldn't let harm come to him," Gabrielle insisted. "Neither would Hercules."_

_"Then **why**?" The Conqueror demanded. "Twice you've turned my life upside down. Twice!"_

_(Gabrielle remembered: "Tell me, Xena, is your mother proud of you? What loss or betrayal made you the monster you are?" Her words, inspired by Iolaus.)_

_She had no idea what to say. She hadn't even been sure her words had reached the Conqueror at all. Usually so eloquent, Gabrielle had no words. "You want me dead," she said dully. "I suppose, by your lights, I deserve to die."_

_There was a tense silence, broken by Xena's voice. "No. Get out."_

_"What?" Gabrielle blurted._

_"I said, get out!"_

"The Conqueror knows you have her son," Hippolyta repeated. "In Hera's name, Gabrielle! She'll be coming after us all. We have to be ready."

***

Iolaus didn't head for Corinth.

When he left Gabrielle he intended to do exactly what he had said. He had intended murder. Or revenge. But Corinth was a long walk and he hadn't taken a horse.

The sun wasn't up yet, but the sky was lightening: the black of night turning deep blue. Almost dawn. Seeking darkness to match his mood, Iolaus headed into the nearby forest. With the wind whispering in the trees above him, he felt at home. Woodland had always been his refuge. In his boyhood it had been his escape from an abusive father, as a young man an ideal lovers' retreat, later in life his rarely acknowledged refuge when his friendship with Hercules became too much of a strain.

As if anything could lift his mood now.

Hercules was dead.

They had saved each other's lives countless times. No one knew him like Hercules did. No one accepted him so completely, faults and all. And in the past year — _yes, Iolaus, this time you **will** think about it_ — Iolaus knew that much of it had been purely his own fault, a selfish impulse he would regret forever — and Hercules knew that, too, and forgave him, and loved him anyway.

_"I realised how much my family means to me. And…that's you."_

Oh, gods, Herc…

Grief warred with cold rage for possession of his heart. He had forgiven Xena once, for wrongs she had done him. _Damned_ if he could forgive this.

She was a monster. Xena, the Conqueror. Ares' lover. Ares' devoted servant. Ares' warrior queen.

She had killed thousands. Perhaps tens of thousands. She had crucified Gabrielle, and for no greater crime than that she had spoken out against injustice.

And she had murdered Hercules. Killed him when he was trying to make peace.

All of the rational arguments he had used with Gabrielle were meaningless to Iolaus now. Vengeance. Vengeance and his tears were all he had left.

As the first rays of the sun filtered through the forest canopy, Iolaus became aware of another presence in the wood. An experienced hunter, he hid himself and waited, listening. There was someone on horseback. Someone picking their way very slowly through the trees. Could it be someone from their army tracking him? Gabrielle wouldn't have had him followed…but Hippolyta might and Lysia certainly would.

Well, he wasn't in the mood to be found.

He knew plenty of hunters' tricks. He could hide for days in woodland.

Then Iolaus saw the rider. The figure of a woman, her appearance concealed by a dark, hooded cloak. As he watched she dismounted and reached up a hand to stroke the horse's nose. Leading the horse by its bridle, she continued on foot, heading deeper into the forest. She pushed the hood back from her face.

Iolaus bit his tongue to stop himself shouting her name.

The Conqueror herself. Alone.

Moving silently as only a hunter could, Iolaus crept from his hiding place. This was almost like a sign. The Conqueror didn't even know he was there. He could take her from behind and she wouldn't have a chance.

For a moment, he hesitated.

_"I have to believe it. If I don't, I'll have to kill her. Iolaus…I don't think I can."_

Rage and loss burned in his blood. Ripping his sword from its sheath, Iolaus shouted a challenge. And attacked.


	18. Epitaph

Xena spun to meet the attack. Her sword was in her hand instantly. She parried the first blow, feinted then thrust, forcing him to back off. In the space that gave her, she ripped the encumbering cloak from her shoulders. She had time, then, to look at her attacker.

Their eyes met and she read his intention to kill. There was a moment, just a moment when she felt she recognised this man. She couldn't place the memory.

Then the familiar battle-rage possessed her. Shouting a warcry, the Conqueror attacked. She leapt toward him, feinting with her sword as she kicked out. The kick caught him square in the chest and he tumbled backward. His foot swept out as he fell, forcing her to check her next thrust. He parried, rolled and leapt to his feet. His eyes burning with anger he attacked again.

A swift series of blows rained down on her. Xena met each one easily. She darted close to regain the offensive, locking her blade with his. As swords and eyes locked together she exerted all her strength, forcing his blade down. Never breaking eye-contact, Xena saw his hatred and despair. She saw no fear.

She was falling. His leg hooked around her calf and he had overbalanced her. She turned the fall into a backflip, springing back up just in time to meet his sword.

But rather than parry the descending blow, Xena twisted to the side. His thrust missed her flesh by a hair's breadth. His momentum carried him into her body-space. She grabbed his shirt with her left hand and struck down with her sword, disarming him. As the sword fell from his hand she spun round, using her hold and the momentum of his fall to send him crashing into the nearest tree.

He hit the tree trunk head first and fell to the ground.

Xena stood over him, her sword raised for the killing blow.

***

"You're crazy, Gabrielle!" Agrius shouted. "The Conqueror will slaughter us all."

"Listen…" Gabrielle tried to respond. The centaur turned away from her, ignoring her request.

She understood. They were shocked. They were frightened. Among all the possible outcomes of Hercules' plan, this was the one result they had never truly considered. But couldn't they see that _she_ was afraid, too? She was the one of them with most reason to fear the Conqueror's wrath.

…And she was the one who had to lead them now.

"No!" Hippolyta shouted Agrius down. "All of you, calm _down_!" The Amazon queen waited for silence and got it. Her dark eyes swept the tent, taking in every face. "We've lost _one man_. I _know_ what he meant to our cause, and I know this is a shock. But he was only one man. We still have an army around us. We can still win."

"Win what?" Rosoin asked, her voice quiet, yet pitched to carry. "If we go back to war now, more people will die. Even if we kill the Conqueror, we'll have lost."

"Well, what do _you_ suggest, then, Rosoin?" Lysia demanded. "Run?"

"No, I — "

Agrius turned back to the assembled leaders. "I say we should fight. March on Corinth today."

Gabrielle drew in her breath sharply. "We have a truce!" she insisted. The suggestion was unlike Agrius.

"To Tartarus with the truce!" Agrius declared. "She killed Hercules!" At those words, everyone began to speak. Many of them, it was clear, agreed with the centaur.

"Stop it!" Hippolyta commanded. "All of you. Stop it!" She held up her hands for silence. Eventually, they quieted. "None of us has slept tonight. We're tired and strung out. We can't decide anything now." She turned to Lysia. "Lysia, make sure there's a double watch posted. We have to be prepared for an attack. Then — _all_ of you — get some sleep. If nothing else happens, we'll meet again after noon and discuss this _calmly_."

Lysia nodded and stalked out of the tent, her grim look daring anyone to argue with her queen.

Hippolyta glanced at Agrius. He looked about to object, then he looked away, saying nothing. They left the tent together.

As the others filed out, Gabrielle was left alone with Rosoin. Silently, Rosoin opened her arms to her friend.

"Oh, gods, Rosoin. What are we going to do?" Gabrielle whispered, moving into her friend's arms with some relief. Rosoin's friendship and support was something she too-often took for granted. In that moment, Gabrielle silently thanked every benevolent god for her friend.

Rosoin held her, small fingers stroking softly through her hair. "You're allowed to cry, Gabrielle. Even you have to grieve."

***

Consciousness brought with it an arrow of pain, streaking down his side. Iolaus opened his eyes reluctantly. He blinked, seeing nothing. Just a great blur. He listened: there was the trill of birdsong above him, the whisper of the wind through the high branches. He raised a hand to his head, blinking a few more times to clear his vision.

The world swam back into focus and he realised he was not alone.

Xena? What was Xena doing here? …That's right. He had fought her. Iolaus tried to sit up and regretted it: his head started spinning again. More pain. Hauling his body into a more-or-less upright position, he leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his aching head in his hands. It was a few minutes before he could do more than that.

Xena hadn't moved. She was simply watching him silently.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Iolaus asked her, when he could speak.

She lifted her sword before her eyes, the gleaming blade between them, then she set it aside. "I don't know," she answered. She leaned forward a little, her blue eyes searching his. "Why did you try to kill me?"

Iolaus frowned. The question seemed bizarre. She didn't sound interested in the answer. It was almost like she was making small talk. But he answered her anyway. "You murdered my best friend." _Hercules…_ As the grief returned anew, Iolaus would have reached for a weapon again if he had been able.

The Conqueror nodded, grimly. "Hercules?"

"You've murdered so many, I don't suppose one more makes a difference to you." Iolaus spoke bitterly.

Abruptly, Xena asked him, "What's your name?"

"Iolaus."

"Well, _Iolaus_, I didn't murder Hercules. He died by my hand, yes, but it was an accident. I didn't know." She hesitated — another thing that seemed strange for her — and added reflectively, "I never wanted him dead."

"I don't believe you, Xena."

"It's true."

"You always carry hind-blood in case of accidents, do you?"

Xena shook her head. "I didn't know it would kill him! I had no idea he was half a god until Gabrielle told us." She looked away from him. "The hind-blood was Ares' plan," she said darkly.

Iolaus smiled bitterly. "Oh, that's smart. Trust the god of war." He raised a hand to his head, feigning a slap. "Oh, I forgot. Of course you trust him. He warms your sheets at night."

Xena reached for a weapon, her eyes flashing with anger. A knife in her hand, she stopped suddenly. In a low voice, she asked, "Are you suicidal?"

Iolaus opened his mouth to offer another smart remark, then stopped. For a moment he actually considered her question. Was that what he'd been doing? Trying to follow Hercules to the Other Side — as Hercules had done more than once for him? _Yes, that's exactly what I'm doing. But it's wrong. Herc wouldn't want that…_ And in his mind, he heard Hercules voice. Faintly, as he had when Hercules had been trapped in the vortex between the worlds: _Finish it, Iolaus. You can do it._ His eyes filled with tears. He blinked them back.

"You don't understand what you've done, do you? Xena, you didn't kill a man. You killed _Hercules_." He shook his head — and pain reminded him he shouldn't have done that. Doggedly, he went on, "Let me tell you what he was, Xena."

She listened as Iolaus spoke, haltingly at first, and as he warmed to his subject, with greater passion. He had to chose his stories carefully, but he tried hard to convey how special Hercules was, what a great loss his death represented.

Xena smiled cynically. "Such a _good_ man — doing battle with the legitimate ruler of this realm."

"He _told_ you why he had to fight you, Xena." Iolaus, not to be put off by her, spoke insistently. "He couldn't bear all the useless deaths." _Damn you, Xena, can't you **see**?_ "Isn't there any part of you that can understand that? Isn't there more to your life than war? Or are you only the Conqueror, now, and there's nothing left of Xena at all?" His eyes bored into hers, searching desperately for what he knew Hercules had seen in her. "There must be something that drives you other than will, Xena. Hercules believed you could choose life over war. He _died_ for that belief, Xena. Don't let him be wrong."

Xena was silent for a long moment. She shook her head slightly. "Your passion is impressive, Iolaus. It's also pointless. What do you expect me to do? Abdicate my throne and travel the world seeking atonement for my sins? Do you really think I could turn my back on Ares. I owe everything to him. He would never let me go."

"You're right. You owe Ares _everything_. The death of you brother at the hands of one of Ares' warlords. Your own defeat and crucifixion at Caesar's hands. The death of Borias. You owe Ares _everything_." _For Hades' sake, Xena, hear me! Hear the truth for a change._ "Ares used you, Xena. If you can't see that…"

"Of course he used me. But I did pretty well out of the deal."

"If you think that, you're blind. Ares used your son as an excuse to attack Zeus and make himself king of the gods. With that kind of power, don't you think he could have found your son if he'd wanted to?"

"He _tried_."

"Not very hard. He _wanted_ you to go to war, _Conqueror_. All that slaughter is Ares' idea of fun. He wasn't about to give you a reason to stop the killing! No, he used that war — _and you_ — to consolidate his power on Olympus. Xena, he doesn't care about you and he doesn't care about your baby. You're nothing to him but a weapon."

She stared at him. For the first time, Iolaus felt hope. Perhaps she would believe him.

"Can you prove any of that?" she asked him.

Iolaus swallowed. Yes he could, but what would she do if she knew? _Finish it, Iolaus._ It was worth the risk.

"Xena, I'm one of those who took your son."

She attacked so fast he didn't see it coming. Wounded already, he was an easy target. Iolaus found himself lying on his back, her knife cold against his throat. Looking up into the Conqueror's blazing eyes.

"Wait! Xena, please. Let me explain!"

"There's nothing you can say that I'll want to hear," she snarled. The pressure on his throat increased fractionally.

"I know. But, Xena, Gabrielle's orders weren't to take the child. She was" — he felt pain and the ticklish flow of blood as her blade cut into his skin — "Xena, please. She was supposed to kill the baby. Hera sent her."

Abruptly, the blade was withdrawn. "Hera? What could she have against me?"

His face full of compassion, Iolaus answered, "Not against you, Xena. Against your son. Ares' child threatened her position, her power. If we hadn't taken your baby, she would have found a way to kill him. Did Ares warn you?"

"No." But maybe he hadn't known. Xena shook her head. Of course he had known. Of course. Her eyes darkened with anger, but this time it wasn't directed at Iolaus. She looked down and offered him her hand. As he accepted, dazedly, she frowned with concern. "That's a nasty concussion. You'd better let me take a look at it."

Smiling with relief, Iolaus nodded. She moved closer to examine the wound…

_…And he found himself in a dark cavern. He heard voices, and his awareness drifted toward them:_

_"To make her suffer?" the goddess answered eagerly._

_The child shook her head. "To make her **stop**. My father's kingdom is at hand. The age of darkness when Dahok will snuff out the people Xena loves 'till he's crushed her very soul. And as she goes…"_

Iolaus bit his lip, hard, bringing his awareness back to reality.

But the prophecy of Dahok's daughter was still ringing through his mind: _As she goes, so goes the world_.

"Xena," Iolaus began. He pushed her hands away from him, gently. "It's never too late, Xena. You have a choice to make, today. Please, choose life."

***

_"It's too late. I've killed so many men I'll never wash their blood from my hands."_

Her words, almost two years before.

_"Why would you want to?" Ares had answered._

_"Ares used you."_

She had known that. She had used him in return.

_He used your son._

A frown of anger darkened Xena's brow.

_"My son didn't even have a name!"_

Her son.

Before he was born, she had taken to gazing out over her city at night. From her balcony, the Conqueror could contemplate her power: the walled city of Corinth, its nights peaceful under her rule. Beyond the walls, the field of crosses: the symbol of the Conqueror's justice.

She had come to realise that hers was not a world in which she wanted to raise a child.

_"I know you're sick of war, Xena."_

He was right. So right. She was tired of war and battle and death. Tired of a world that seemed to require those things. She wanted better than that for her baby.

Xena had remade the world once. In Ares' service. She had created his perfect world. For her son, she would have remade it all again.

_"It's never too late, Xena."_

Perhaps Iolaus was right. Perhaps it was time to remake the world again.

Starting with herself.

***

Iolaus returned to find the army in chaos.

He ignored it. He walked through the tents purposefully, paying no attention to the people milling around. He barely responded to greetings, waved off those who called after him. He needed to find Gabrielle.

She wasn't in the tent they shared. There he paused for a moment. Where else would she be? Who would she turn to?

Rosoin.

His guess proved correct. Rosoin rose as she saw him in the entranceway. She said nothing, but slipped away quietly, leaving them alone. Gabrielle, her eyes red from weeping, looked up at Iolaus without speaking.

He walked over to the bed where she sat, and dropped to his knees. "Forgive me."

Gabrielle sobbed, fresh tears springing into her eyes.

Iolaus gathered her into his arms. "Gods, Gabrielle, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't mean what I said. I don't blame you." She held him tightly and he felt inexpressible relief. "It's not your fault, my love. None of it is. No one ever stopped Hercules doing something he's set on doing, and no one ever made him do something he didn't want to do."

"But if I hadn't brought you here…" she began in a small voice.

He drew away from her slightly so he could look into her eyes. He was smiling. "Gabrielle, all though this, you've stayed true to yourself. You followed where your heart led you. Even if you made some mistakes, that's the best any of us can do." He clasped both of her hands within his own. "Forgive me."

He could see the thoughts in her face. _**Me** forgive **you**?_ Gabrielle smiled, kissing him lightly. "I love you."

He took her back into his arms; the fierceness of her embrace surprised him.

"What happened to your head?" she asked. Her words were muffled by her face pressed into his shirt.

"It's nothing. I had a disagreement with a tree." He would tell her the truth when she was ready to hear it.

"Gabrielle." Rosoin's voice, from the entrance. "I'm sorry to interrupt. Hippolyta's ready for us."

Iolaus frowned. "What's going on?" He remembered the state of the army when he had returned and felt the beginnings of real disquiet.

"They're afraid, Iolaus," Gabrielle told him. "I think it's falling apart."

"But Hippolyta is supposed to be in command."

Rosoin told him, "Without Hercules, they're not all willing to trust her."

Iolaus swore very sincerely. He got to his feet quickly. "Oh, boy…" He swayed, his head swimming.

"Iolaus?" Gabrielle caught his arm.

"I'll be alright." He didn't have _time_ to be ill. Later. Iolaus checked the sword was in his scabbard. He walked the few steps to the tentflap, picked up Gabrielle's staff and handed it to her. "Ready to face the world, my queen?"

She accepted the staff from him with an uncertain smile.

"That's not good enough, Gabrielle." He stepped close to her, lifting her chin. "You're an Amazon Queen, and the head of this army. If you don't feel confident…" He kissed the tip of her nose, "…fake it."

She straightened. "I'm ready."

The three of them walked together to the leaders' tent. Even from outside, they could hear the sounds of disagreement. Gabrielle hesitated at the entrance. "Iolaus, I can't…"

"You don't have to. Just back me up." _Damned_ if he was going to let all Hercules' work go to waste now.

As they walked in, Hippolyta was speaking.

"…refuse to let all we've done be in vain!" She was shouting to make herself heard.

Iolaus pushed his way to her side. "She's right. _Listen_ to me!" The others quieted a little as he began to speak. "We can't run away now. There are too many people in this army depending on us."

Agrius interrupted, "It's different now. The Conqueror knows…"

"The Conqueror knows what she must have already suspected. Xena isn't the fool you think she is." Iolaus insisted. "And the only reason you want to attack, Agrius, is because you don't want us to deal with Xena's advisor. If you're going to tell us what we should do, at least be honest about that." Iolaus turned to the rest of them, raising his voice. "We can still win. _If_ you listen to me. _If_ we follow Hercules' plan."

"Which is exactly what we _would_ be doing if he were here right now," Gabrielle added, moving to Iolaus' side. "Don't we owe Hercules that? Well? Do we run like cowards? Or do we _win this war_?!!"

Amid the cheering that greeted Gabrielle's words, Iolaus beckoned Rosoin to his side. As Hippolyta and Gabrielle took over the meeting, he spoke to her quietly. "I've got a very special job for you, Rosoin. Are you willing to help us?"

***

The Conqueror rode into her palace at Corinth to find all signs of the previous night's festival gone. The main courtyard once again looked like a military encampment. Once, she would have found the sight reassuring. Now, she wasn't so sure.

The vague feeling of uncertainty intensified when she was met by Darphus, her Commander. He informed her that the army was ready to ride at her command. Xena looked around the courtyard again, taking in the details, this time: the preparation of armour and weapons and horses saddled in the stalls.

"Well done, Darphus," she told him automatically. "But I'm not ready to march just yet." She glanced around a third time, feigning an expression of disdain. "There are too many men here, Darphus. When we ride, it won't be with our full force. I don't intend to leave Corinth open to attack." She turned her horse away from him. "See to it," she ordered.

Darphus looked as if he would object, but the Conqueror had already moved on.

She handed the horse over to a servant and disappeared inside the Palace before anyone else could speak to her. Halfway to her chambers, Daunus met her. Her advisor had obviously been hurrying: he was short of breath. Xena turned toward her throne room instead. "Walk with me, Daunus."

As they walked, they spoke in low voices. "You've spoken with Serena?" Xena confirmed.

"I have."

"What did you do with his body?" Xena didn't need to ask whether Daunus had taken care of it: she knew he would have done.

"He was laid out in one of the lower chambers." Daunus paused as a servant passed them. "I hope that meets with your approval?"

"It does. He deserves our honour." She hesitated, unwilling to say more. So many regrets. "Did your meeting go well?"

"I thought so." She heard some surprise in his tone.

"You can tell me about it in a moment," she told him. "We have a lot of work ahead. Daunus, I want his body prepared for burial. And arrange for a cart. See to it _personally_, Daunus. Then come to me." They had reached the throne room door; they both paused outside.

"As you wish, Conqueror. Will you want an honour guard?"

She smiled. She so rarely had to explain her intentions to Daunus. "_I'll_ be the honour guard, Daunus. I refuse to allow Hercules' death to be meaningless. We're going to have peace."


	19. War

Xena's Chamber of State was opulent to the point of extravagance. She actually felt out of place there, dressed in battle leathers and a dirty cloak, with a bloodstained chakram hanging from its hook at her waist. She sat on her black marble throne, waiting restlessly, turning the chakram over and over in her hands. Servants moved nervously around her, going about the daily business of cleaning the Chamber, each one hoping and praying they would not come to her notice. The Conqueror seemed in a dangerous mood.

When Daunus appeared, he summoned a servant to bring him a chair, then dismissed everyone else from the room. His conversation with the Conqueror would be private.

"Will you tell me what happened, Conqueror?"

Her proper title made her wince. "It was an accident, Daunus. Though I don't suppose anyone except you will believe that. What happened doesn't matter now. It's time to end this, my friend. I will need your support."

"You have it. Always." Daunus answered at once and she smiled gratefully.

"Do you think we'll be able to negotiate now?"

Daunus considered the question carefully. "It depends who takes over the leadership now. We both know that the true leader of their army was Hercules. Without him… In name it will be Queen Gabrielle, of course. In reality, I'm not sure. They're not really a unified group, Conqueror. Hercules did remarkably well to bring them all together."

"You think they'll break up now he's dead?"

"Unless they unite for vengeance, it seems likely." He hesitated, thinking. "The man I spoke with might be your best hope. Iolaus."

_The best hope is a man who just tried to kill me. Great._ "You're not hopeful, are you, Daunus?"

"Frankly, murder isn't the best way to start."

Xena froze, her eyes fixed on her advisor. Then she nodded grimly. "You're right. Even so, I'm going to try."

There was a flash of crimson, and the all-too familiar figure of Ares stood between them. "_Peace_, my Xena? A strange word on your lips."

_"He wanted you to go to war. He used you."_

"Get used to it, Ares," Xena snarled. "You'll be hearing it a lot. Now get out of here. I'm busy."

The god leaned over her, forcing her back against the marble back of the throne, his hands braced on either side of the seat. "You can't be serious, Xena. Show weakness now and they'll slaughter you. You should be out there with your armies. Kill 'em all!"

Unperturbed, Xena raised her chakram slowly, resting the sharp edge _very_ lightly against the skin of the god's throat. In her most innocent voice, she asked him, "Does hind's blood really kill a god, Ares?" He stepped back quickly. Xena smiled.

"You're a fool, Xena. If you think I'm going to let you ruin everything you can think again. I _need_ this war, Conqueror."

Ares vanished.

Into the silence that followed the god's departure, Daunus said, "Was that wise?"

Xena was still looking at the spot where Ares had been standing. "Ares can't stop me doing what my heart tells me is right."

"I never thought he could. But he won't give up so easily. What did he mean?"

"I don't know." Xena said thoughtfully. She was worried, but she pushed thoughts of Ares aside for the moment. "Tell me about Iolaus. What did you make of him?"

Daunus began an explanation. He never finished it. They both heard the shouting. Xena leapt up. "What's going on? …!" She hurried to the window that overlooked the courtyard.

Looking down, Xena saw the figure of a woman mounting a horse — _her_ horse — amid the massed troops. As she watched, the woman glanced upward to the window. Xena saw _her own face_.

"Ares!" she hissed. The woman yanked at the reins of her horse and began to ride. Darphus guided his mount alongside.

The window was an arrow-slit: built too narrow for Xena to squeeze through. She ran for the door.

The so-secure architecture of her Palace worked against her, now. Xena never heard the impassioned speech "the Conqueror" gave in her name. She heard the answering shout from the gathered army, though. Her name, chanted as a battle cry. As she reached the courtyard, she saw only the last of her men leaving. Their triumphant chant floated back on the air, mocking her. "Xena! Xena! Xe-na!"

"**_Ares!!!_**" she yelled.

It was no use. None of them would hear her. The stable! She could ride after them. But here, too, she was thwarted: there was not a horse left.

"Fine. I'll run," she declared. "You will _not_ win, Ares."

"We'll go together."

Xena spun around at the soft voice. Serena stood there, a bow in her hand. "What can you…"

"I can't outrun a horse, Conqueror, but I'm faster than you'd be on foot." Serena offered a hand to Xena as she shimmered into her other form: the golden hind. "Time to put my training to good use," she added.

Xena, understanding, smiled grimly. She checked her weapons — especially the chakram — quickly, and accepted the hind's hand.

***

Strife was having a great time. Uncle Ares sure knew how to mix it up.

That troublemaking demigod was out of the way and suddenly Olympus was in an uproar. Everyone knew Ares had used hind's blood. No one quite knew how to react. Some of them wanted to oppose Ares. There weren't many weapons that could threaten a god, but hind-blood was one and Ares had effectively demonstrated his willingness to use it. Others were confident that this was an empty threat: after all, killing an unprotected demigod was not the same as turning against another Olympian.

And where _was_ Ares, anyway? He should he here, gloating over his victory. In his absence, Strife was enjoying the show. He was lounging on Ares' throne with one leg hooked over the marble arm, pretending to know all about it. Every one of the gods was around somewhere, even those who normally avoided Olympus. Even Iris was here, hanging around at the back of the hall trying to look inconspicuous. Strife thought about going to chat with her: he hadn't seen her on Olympus in months.

That was when the trouble started.

Zeus appeared in the hall, so casually that at first no one noticed. The former king of the gods was deep in conversation with Hades: the two gods had materialised together. Strife stared: Hades was an unusual sight on Olympus.

As the presence of Zeus was registered by the others in the hall, silence fell. Everyone stopped speaking and looked. Hera, glanced haughtily at the brothers and just as quickly looked away. Apollo nudged Aphrodite, pointing out the arrivals; she smiled brilliantly but said nothing. Discord had been one of the first to see them arrive: she moved into the back of the hall.

Zeus broke off his conversation with Hades and seemed to notice Strife for the first time. He walked up to the dais.

"Strife. I believe you're in my chair." Zeus lifted the younger god by the front of his leather tunic, moved him off the throne and dropped him. Strife, looked up from the floor as Zeus sat down on the throne as if he'd never left. "You were saying something about an earthquake…" he said to Hades.

Strife looked around at the other gods. Discord was nowhere in sight. The others were all paying close attention, but it was obvious no one was going to act.

Inwardly, Strife shrugged. It was up to him then.

Nervously, he rose and approached the throne. "Er…grandpa," he began, "you — ah — _do_ know Ares is in charge here now, don't ya?"

For a moment it seemed Zeus hadn't heard him. Then he said mildly, "Excuse me," to Hades.

A thunderbolt exploded at Strife's feet. It sent the young god flying, along with a considerable chunk of the floor. Zeus waited until Strife picked himself up. "Strife, I think I must have misheard you. I'm sure I misunderstood. Would you care to rephrase that?"

Strife hesitated. Recognising the better part of valour, he backed down. "Ah…no. I think I'll just be running along." He was backing off toward the door. "I'm sure there's somewhere I should be…" Remembering his godly abilities, he vanished from the Halls.

Zeus was definitely back.

***

In the privacy of their tent, Iolaus held Gabrielle with gentle arms, his eyes closed, his cheek resting against her soft hair. He was tired. Gods, so very tired. "Gabrielle," he whispered.

"You were wonderful." Gabrielle looked up at him with a smile. "I can't believe you managed to talk them round."

He shook his head, letting his arms drop, turning away from her slightly. Hercules, with Gabrielle's help, had brought together a disparate group of people. All of them had their own priorities, their own agendas. He had held them together through sheer force of personality and it had been tough, at times, even for him. Without his leadership, conflict had been inevitable.

"I didn't talk them round, Gabrielle. I just bought us a breathing space." He looked back at her. "That's what we need, love. Time." She was frowning. Iolaus moved over to the bench, patting the space beside him. She sat where he indicated. "I can't say this to any of the others. Not even Hippolyta. They wouldn't understand."

Gabrielle looked at him nervously. "Iolaus, what is it? Why is time so important?"

"Because we don't know yet what Xena will do. It's her move, Gabrielle. Hercules was right about that. If there's going to be an ending…" Iolaus looked up at the sound of shouting outside the tent. "What in Tartarus…?" He reached for his sword.

The high wail of the battle-alarm cut through the air, spreading panic throughout the encamped army.

"You were saying…?" Gabrielle joked weakly.

Iolaus rushed out of the tent, his sword in his hand. He headed, not for the gates, but for the watchtower. Gabrielle was at his heels all the way. He told her to wait at the bottom and started to climb.

The Conqueror's army seemed to stretch for miles. At its head rode the Conqueror herself. In her hand, she brandished a naked sword. At her side rode her Commander. They rode at a gallop, straight for the fort.

Iolaus heard Hippolyta shouting orders and was glad someone was taking charge. Not that he had any illusions that they could win. Against these odds, they wouldn't have a chance.

He heard the call to arms and turned away from the sight of the army. He saw Gabrielle, struggling up the ladder. "I thought I told you to wait below," he said, helping her up.

"I had to see for myself. It's the Conqueror, isn't it?" Iolaus held her steady with one arm around her shoulders. Together, they looked out over what was about to become a battlefield. "She's coming for us," Gabrielle whispered.

"Rosoin and Agrius got out," Iolaus reminded her. "If we can survive this battle, there's hope."

"If."

But Iolaus didn't hear her dejected response. He was staring at the Conqueror. More correctly, he was staring at her lathered horse. Suddenly he swore. There was no time…

"What is it?" Gabrielle asked him, confused.

"That's _not_ Xena!"

Ignoring the ladder — it would take too long — Iolaus leapt straight off the top of the watchtower. He landed on the soft ground below with an inelegant roll. Leaping to his feet, he started to run.

***

Discord's laughter rang out in the aftermath of Strife's abrupt departure. "It's about time someone put that little worm in his place," she declared. Pushing forward through the gathered gods, she approached Zeus' throne boldly. "Zeus…don't take this the wrong way." She cast a significant look at the hole in the floor created by his thunderbolt. "I'm sure we all appreciate this business-as-usual act. We all know you've been — ah — on other business, lately. Ares has caused a little…upheaval, while you were away."

Zeus stopped her advance with a wave of his hand. "Discord, I know. Ares is fond of his toys, isn't he?" The god shook his head sadly, just like a parent discussing a baby's mischief. "Still, some of those toys are a little dangerous." His eyes searched out Hera. "Just like those pets of yours, eh, my dear?" He turned back to Discord, pitching his voice to carry. "I'll be relieving Ares of his latest toy when I get a moment."

"Sooner, rather than later, _my dear_," Hera told him, her tone dangerous.

"Of course." Zeus caught Discord's hand before she could turn away. "In the meantime, I think you and I should talk. You and Ares have been close recently."

"Not recently," Discord insisted quickly. "Oh, no. Ares was far too busy with the Conqueror."

Zeus released her. "What a shame. I did have a job in mind for you. But since you're not interested…"

***

"The Conqueror's" horse halted in the centre of the field. The horse was badly lathered: she had been riding hard. Behind her, an army drew up in formation.

In that moment of utter stillness, Iolaus reached the front wall. He took a place over the gate. He knew what was coming. There didn't seem any way to avoid it now. He prayed — though to whom, he couldn't have said — that Gabrielle would have the sense to stay out of this battle. A lot of them were going to die. But Gabrielle, and Rosoin, still held their last hope for a lasting peace.

Someone handed Iolaus a bow. He accepted it numbly, his eyes fixed on the gathering army. Automatically, he nocked an arrow on the bowstring.

"The Conqueror" — whoever she was, it wasn't Xena — brandished her sword above her head. "_Kill 'em all!!_" Iolaus saw her tense, ready to lead the charge.

"Aiyiyiyiyiyi!"

Iolaus caught his breath. The familiar sound of Xena's warcry had _not_ come from the woman leading the army. Iolaus watched, disbelieving, as Xena, her body tucked into a tight ball, somersaulted high over the horses and men. She landed, perfectly, just ahead of the woman on horseback. She had placed herself between her own army and their fort.

"Get out of here, Ares!" Xena's shout carried across the field. "I won't let you do this!"

An arrow flew, killing the horse that "the Conqueror" rode instantly. As the animal fell, the rider leapt, metamorphosing as he landed into the black-clad shape of the god of war.

Iolaus saw the gold flash in the sunlight on the edge of his vision and knew where the arrow had come from.

Without waiting for an opening, Xena attacked.

There was no disputing Xena's courage, Iolaus thought, but this was useless. She couldn't possibly defeat a god…could she?"

Behind and around him, Iolaus heard the voices of others: they saw the same thing he did, but they didn't understand. They couldn't figure out what was happening. Some even wondered if the woman fighting the god was truly who she looked like.

Iolaus knew. _You won, Herc. Gods, you were right about her. I only wish…_ He ignored the voices around him, his eyes fixed on the battle below.

It was a magnificent display of swordsmanship. The first clash of swords was so loud it silenced everyone. Someone from the Conqueror's army started to ride forward. A barked order from Darphus stopped him. The swords clashed again. Ares was a god, Xena a mortal, yet they seemed evenly matched. She fought him with fury, yet kept her body between the angry god and the rebels' fort.

A glint of silver from the ranks of the army caught Iolaus' eye. His eyes narrowed as he searched for it. He saw Darphus, a gleaming dagger in his hand. For a second Iolaus was confused. Then he realised, remembering what Darphus was.

Iolaus raised the bow he still held and loosed a single arrow. The Commander fell, an instant before the dagger that would have killed Xena left his hand.

_That's for Ephiny…and Orestes._

Xena whirled and saw Darphus fall. Caught sight of the dagger sliding from his lifeless hand. Glanced up to see where the arrow had come from. Iolaus raised his bow in a grim salute.

The impact of Ares' boot at her hip sent her sprawling. _Damn_ Darphus for distracting her! She managed to turn the fall into a roll and sprang back up.

She was losing this fight.

She could match Ares skill for skill. She had always known that. But every clash of swords, every fall, added to her collection of bruises. She was tiring. Ares could feel no pain, whatever she did to him. And he could go on forever if he had to.

Unless…

The chakram was a familiar weight at her waist.

She ducked as Ares feinted toward her head and cursed as her sword went flying from her hand.

"You're losing your edge, Xena!" Ares taunted.

Automatically, she reached for her remaining weapon. _Losing it, am I? I'll show you, you bastard!_

Ares' eyes held a challenge. Almost a dare.

Fury blocked out reason. Xena screamed an answering warcry as the chakram left her hand.

In one smooth, planned movement, Ares twisted to the side. He reached out with a suddenly-gloved hand and caught her deadly weapon from the air. He completed the twist. Their eyes met and he laughed, mockingly. "You lose, Xena."

With a scarlet shower of sparks, he vanished from the field.

***

_Damn Zeus to Tartarus! Why did he have to pick **now**?_

A very angry Ares materialised in the Halls of War. Of course, he knew why. The moment Xena turned against him the balance shifted. Zeus had seen a chance to regain his throne.

Ares didn't need to return to Olympus to know that he had lost. The other gods wouldn't aid him any more than they had aided Zeus.

He waved his hand, opening a window to Olympus, curiosity impelling him to see what had happened. He saw Zeus' entry into the Halls of Olympus. Saw Hades at his back. That settled it. Ares might have fought Zeus, but not the sons of Chronos together.

"Poor baby." Discord's voice, dripping with false sympathy.

"Not now, Discord."

The dark goddess sidled up behind him. He felt her long-nailed fingers run lightly down his leather-clad back. "Come on, Ares. It was a good try."

"That stupid, treacherous _bitch_!" A bolt of power from Ares' hand shattered an inoffensive pillar.

"Nice shot," Discord congratulated him.

"How can you be so calm?" Ares demanded. There was no telling what Zeus would do now. He _might_ do nothing. Ares thought that unlikely. But here in the Halls of War, the centre of his power, Ares was safe. He could regroup. Figure out what to do next.

Discord's fingers swept down his bare arm. "You need to relax, Ares." Long fingers pushed at his leather vest, scraping lightly over his skin. "You'll have time to think…later."

His hand closed over her wrist. "I _have_ missed you, Discord."

"Oh, baby," she cooed with a smile, "you won't know what's hit you." Her hands moved over his leathers with a practised touch.

Ares allowed himself to relax. Discord was right. There would be time for retribution later.

Then Zeus' thunderbolt _did_ hit him. The last thing Ares saw was Discord's triumphant smile.

Discord lifted Xena's chakram before her eyes. The red smear of hind-blood was clearly visible. She ran her finger along the other side, testing the edge. There was a manic gleam in her emerald eyes.

"_I'll_ take that." Zeus held out a hand for the chakram. Discord hesitated. "Don't even _think_ about it, Discord," Zeus said sternly.

With obvious reluctance, she handed the weapon over.

Zeus tossed it into the air. As it reached the zenith, a blast of cold fire came from the god's hands, reducing the chakram and its deadly poison to atoms.

Discord looked down at the motionless body of Ares. "I thought you'd kill him," she said petulantly. "What are you going to do with him now?"

"I'm going to put him somewhere he'll have plenty of time to think about what he tried to do. In the meantime…" The god turned piercing blue eyes onto Discord. "I suggest you make yourself at home, goddess of war."


	20. Peace

Xena, the Conqueror, Destroyer of Nations, the Butcher of Athens, ruler of the Known World, stood, tired, filthy and aching, ignoring the army at her back. She was actually shaking.

She watched apprehensively as the gates of the fort opened. She had no idea what to expect. The future, always so clear to her, was now a blank slate.

Three figures emerged. Gabrielle: still wearing her festival costume of the previous night, though without the mask. She looked tired. She carried a simple staff and was leaning heavily on it as she walked. With a shockingly vivid flash of memory, Xena remembered that Gabrielle's legs had been broken when she was crucified. She must be in a lot of pain.

At her side was Iolaus. He carried no weapons. Taking a closer look at him, Xena could see the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the marks of grief and exhaustion. Yet there was still a certain humour in his eyes as they met hers. And something more: she noted for the first time how he stayed protectively close to Gabrielle. She added that piece of information to her store.

Queen Hippolyta brought up the rear. She was a petite woman, but clad in Amazon battle-leathers and with a spear at her side she looked every inch a warrior. Her dark eyes, meeting Xena's, were cold.

But Xena was looking at the man. She took a single step toward them, offering her hand, in peace. "Iolaus."

He took her hand in a warrior's grip, wrist to wrist.

"Thank you," she added.

His eyes flickered to where the body of Darphus still lay. "I owed you that one," he said.

"I wasn't talking about Darphus."

Iolaus smiled, understanding. "Can we take this home, Conqueror?"

She was silent for a moment, her eyes taking in all three of them. "I think we have a lot to talk about."

***

#### Three Weeks Later

"You're leaving me with nothing," Xena protested.

Hippolyta's eyes betrayed laughter. "That was pretty much the idea," she joked.

Seriously (sometimes Xena wondered if her advisor even _had_ a sense of humour) Daunus interjected, "It's just what we would have had to do anyway, sooner or later."

"But if the outlying regions break away…" Xena began.

"Outlying?" Iolaus laughed suddenly. "Xena, we're talking about places as far away as Gaul or Chin. Not Thrace."

"And Rome," Xena reminded him, coldly.

"I thought we agreed the time for vengeance was past." Iolaus looked up as someone new entered the marquee. His eyes widened as he recognised the boy. He excused himself quickly.

They had set up the marquee on the field outside their fortifications. Here, every day since the battle Xena had fought with Ares for peace, they had met. It was the closest thing they had to neutral territory. They had begun the difficult and tedious task of making peace. It had quickly become clear it would be a long road.

The Conqueror had made enemies all over the Known World. Her empire had been built on conquest. Many of the former leaders of the nations she destroyed were dead. Others lived in exile, hiding under assumed identities as Orestes had. Some, like Hippolyta, had joined their fight against the Conqueror. Many wanted revenge.

The talks had taken two weeks to reach a stage where they could sit together without someone demanding blood. To Iolaus, it felt like two years. What they were proposing now was nothing less than the dismantling of the Conqueror's empire.

It would take years. In the meantime, they had to concentrate on Greece.

Two attempts on her life had made Xena acutely aware of the dangers inherent in the power she held. She was confident that she, herself could survive anything. But she didn't want those she cared about to be endangered.

Iolaus had been amazed by how suddenly, and how completely, Xena had changed.

Solan led him outside the marquee, to where Kaliepus was waiting. Iolaus greeted the centaur leader with a warrior's handshake and a grin. "What took you so long?"

The centaur didn't return his smile. "Iolaus, I was sorry to hear — "

Iolaus shook his head, an almost physical pain lancing through his heart. "Don't." He cut off the offered sympathy. It had become meaningless. He didn't dare think about Hercules. There would be time for grief when this was over.

_They had said their final farewell to Hercules the night their war had ended._

_The night had been crisp and cold. The pyre's flames reached upward toward the stars. With the last echoes of the mourning song in his ears, Iolaus watched the flames consume the body of the friend he loved. His head was full of memories: battles fought, back to back, fishing trips, shared jokes and laughter, shared griefs and tears. Hercules had beaten death for Iolaus more than once. Even in the darkest times, Herc had never, ever given up on him._

_The least Iolaus owed him was the same._

_But he didn't know where to start. He didn't have gods owing him a favour, or knowledge of the arcane. Only love._

Hercules. Oh, gods. What do I do now? How do I go on…?_ Only now it was too late, did Iolaus see how completely he had depended on Hercules. For all Iolaus' bull-headed independence, Herc had been the light in his world. The beacon he followed. _How can I expect to save the world…when I can't even save the people I love?

_Follow your heart. That's what Hercules would have told him. But what did that **mean** now? Within the brightness and warmth of the flames, Iolaus felt engulfed in darkness._

_Tears filled his eyes, blurring his sight of the funeral pyre. He made no attempt to hide them. His tears were for himself. For the world without Hercules. For them all._

_A discreet distance away, Gabrielle and Xena stood side by side. Almost as one, they turned away, leaving Iolaus alone with his grief._

_Gabrielle looked up at the other woman nervously. "I am so sorry."_

_Xena stared at her with genuine surprise. "Please don't apologise to me. I feel like I should be begging your forgiveness. What I did to you…"_

_"…Is in the past," Gabrielle insisted. "The future is what matters now."_

_Xena nodded agreement. "The future is what I'm thinking of. Gabrielle, the things you said to me two years ago: you were right. I've done monstrous things…I can never make up for all of them. But I — " She hesitated, turning to face the younger woman. "I know the pain you're in, Gabrielle. Caesar did the same thing to me, years ago. I have healers who can help you. If you wish."_

_Gabrielle's eyes shone with tears. "I'm not the only one who needs help, Xena. I know…your wounds just don't show."_

_"So maybe we should help each other."_

_"Maybe."_

_Xena offered her hand. "Friends?"_

Iolaus shook his head to clear the memory. "Is Rosoin with you?" he asked Kaliepus. The centaur nodded. "You'd better send her here, then."

***

"You have a strange idea of justice, Xena," Iolaus said.

Xena frowned at him, irritated. "I'm talking about order."

"That's another word for oppression. _Justice_ isn't served by the cross."

Xena opened her mouth to reply. But at that moment she saw the figures standing in the marquee's open entrance and whatever she had been about to say went completely out of her mind.

Rosoin stood there with a baby cradled in her arms. "Conqueror," she said quietly.

Xena rose, but she was looking past Rosoin. "Kaliepus. I should have known he was with you."

Kaliepus shook his head. "He wasn't. But my people made sure he was safe."

"Conqueror," Rosoin said again.

Silence.

Xena's eyes, suddenly bright with tears, were drawn to the baby in Rosoin's arms. "My son," she said. Her voice barely a whisper.

"Take him," Rosoin told her.

She found herself hesitating. She reached out and gently took the child from Rosoin's arms. With shaking fingers, she lifted the blanket away from his face. For the first time since the week he was born, Xena looked at the face of her son.

He was sleeping.

_There's so much of Ares in him. My son… What did Ares plan for you? I **won't** let him have you. We'll remake the world for you, my son. You'll never know the darkness in my heart._

"Thank you," she said to Rosoin. Xena turned back to the others, still cradling her child. "Iolaus."

He looked up. "I take it back. You were right."

He smiled. "Ah, we're both right, Xena. But I think we've done enough for one day."

***

#### One Month Later

Gabrielle was crying. "I don't want you to leave."

Iolaus held her gently, kissing the tears away. "I know." They were in bed: a real bed, in the Conqueror's palace.

They had achieved everything they set out to, and more. Queen Gabrielle of the Amazons would head Xena's new council of advisors. More than anything else, Gabrielle's willingness to work with Xena gave Iolaus hope.

He wiped the tears away from her eyes. "You're giving me a bath, here," he joked.

"Iolaus, you _could_ stay."

"And do what?"

"Anything you want to. Stay in Corinth with me. Or you could be king of Attica."

He had been about to kiss her; that one made him draw back suddenly. "Where did that come from?"

"You're Orestes' cousin, remember? He was the last of his line, so technically…"

"You've really thought about this, haven't you?" For a moment he was tempted.

Gabrielle didn't answer.

Iolaus pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "Gabrielle…I love you. I really do. So much that it's hard to imagine my life without you in it."

"Then _why_?"

He sighed. "Hercules was my best friend. He meant as much to me as you do."

"I know, Iolaus. But he's dead."

He closed his eyes. "Gabrielle, I know nothing can bring him back. But, in our world, he had a family, my love. And many, many people who care about him. Jason, Iphicles, Xena…they deserve to know what happened to him. I owe Hercules that."

"But — "

"I know," he interrupted gently. "Believe me, I've thought about this so much. I don't want to leave you. If I can find some way to come back to you, I will. If I could take you with me, I would, but I can't — you're needed here. And if I don't at least try…I can't explain, but it would always feel like I betrayed Hercules. I can't do that again."

"Again?"

"Don't ask me to explain."

Gabrielle snuggled close to him, thinking about what he had said. _Don't ask me to explain._ If there were things he wouldn't tell her; if there were parts of his life he wouldn't let her near, was she so sure they had the future together she wanted? But she wanted to _try_. No. He had to follow where his heart led, just as she did. All she could do was pray the gods would bring him back to her.

"Iolaus?"

"Mm-hm?"

"Promise you won't forget me."

"As if I _could_!"

"Then let's make the most of tonight."


	21. Hope of Light

#### Another World…

The icy darkness receded. For a moment, Iolaus lay still, just savouring the ability to breathe again. _Gods, Herc. You might have warned me about that trip._ Then he remembered. _He _would_ have warned me. If…_

Why was Iolaus here, anyway?

Yes: because of Hercules. Because he was dead and people needed to know. But suddenly that seemed pointless. Iolaus had a life in that other world. He could have stayed there and married Gabrielle. They would have achieved a lot of good together. Maybe even raised a family.

What did he have here? Hercules was gone.

Hercules was gone. And he had left a woman he loved for vague promises owed to a memory.

_Fool!_

A shockingly loud clap of thunder made him open his eyes. Where was he?

It was night. The ground beneath him was stone. Iolaus pushed himself onto his knees. His senses were still spinning from the crossover. He groaned and lifted a hand to his aching head.

Rain. Heavy, driving rain. Thunder. A bright flash of lightning illuminated the dark cave momentarily.

Tiredness fled as sudden adrenaline flooded his veins. It couldn't be… it?

Iolaus frowned, trying desperately to remember.

_Hercules showing him the new gauntlet on his left wrist. "Our way home, Iolaus."_

_"Weird," Iolaus had commented, looking at the strangely coloured metal. "What's it made of?"_

_"Fragments of the Chronos Stone Callisto destroyed. I don't know what else." Hercules shrugged. "Hephaestus claimed it will take us back to the same time and place I left."_

_Iolaus grinned at his friend. "Nice. _If_ it works."_

The same time and place…

He had forgotten that until now. Was it possible?

_He had been sheltering from the rain in a dark cave. He had no fire: the wood he had managed to collect had been too wet. In the unnaturally loud thunder he had heard, or imagined he heard, a woman's scream._

_The flash of lightning that followed had illuminated an object lying across the abandoned tinder in front of him. A single peacock's feather_

Another clap of thunder shook the air. Simultaneously, the lightning tore the sky in two.

Iolaus rushed to the front of the cave. He fumbled around in the shadows near the entrance, searching. Searching. His hand struck a haphazard pile of wood, knocking it apart. Iolaus knelt there, his eyes fixed on the darkness where the tinder was, waiting for the next flash of lightning.

It came, and the bright flash revealed a single peacock's feather, lying among the scattered twigs.

_"Yes!"_

If this was the same cave, the same night he had left, Hercules was alive! Hercules was…was… _Dammit, Iolaus, **remember**!_

_Corinth!_ He was in Corinth, staying with Jason. Hercules was waiting for him in Corinth.

Iolaus leapt to his feet. He didn't have a second to lose. He didn't care about the storm. He didn't care that travelling through such rough terrain in dreadful weather would be dangerous.

He had to reach Corinth before Hercules left.

There was hope.


	22. Daughter of Darkness

Ares was imprisoned in oblivion.

No sensory input whatsoever: it was neither warm nor cold; it wasn't silent yet there were no sounds; it wasn't light, yet there was no darkness, either. He couldn't even feel the chains that bound him.

This was his eternity.

Until, after an endless instant, something changed.

Another presence, sharing his prison.

He opened eyes he hadn't realised were closed, and saw her. A child. Dark-haired, grey-eyed, about seven years old, in appearance. She carried a toy in her hands. Her dress was a filthy rag.

The little girl appeared to see him there and moved toward him. When she sat beside his prone body, as if his being there was the most natural thing in the world, Ares saw her eyes. There was a knowledge in those cold orbs that belied her apparent age. A darkness. The look of a ruthless warrior.

Her mouth opened and she spoke. "You want your freedom."

_What a blindingly obvious statement!_ Ares thought.

"Obvious, yes. I came to give you everything you want, Ares."

_You're a kid. How can you free me from the gods?_

The girl's smile was chilling. "Easily. I'm here, aren't I?"

Silence.

"There is a price."

_There always is._

"You can be more than free. My father will give you power beyond your dreams. You can have revenge on those who put you here. You've been thinking about it, haven't you? Rotting here in Zeus' prison, you've been planning all the ways you can hurt them. With my help, you can destroy them all. Zeus. Discord. Even Xena."

_**Xena!** Just let me have my freedom and I'll show the traitorous bitch what it means to cross **me**! I'll tear her limb from limb. I'll destroy everything she's ever loved and make her watch. I'll…_

"No." The child's voice was like iron. "That is the price of this alliance, Ares. Xena will be dealt with. But not your way. Mine."

For the first time, a frission of fear. A wondering just how high the price would be. Not enough to prevent the god asking.

_And what's your way, little girl?_

She smiled a chilling smile and her grey eyes glowed red for just an instant.

"My father Dahok needs the sacrifice of a warrior's heart."

A warrior's heart.

As understanding dawned, Ares began to laugh.


End file.
